


Thankless

by Lyledebeast



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Armitage Hux, Crack, Domesticity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Huddling For Warmth, Lots of Tea, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, everyone hux has had sex with is dead, past dopheld mitaka/armitage hux, past non-con kylo ren/armitage hux, rose is a brave soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:11:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 48,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyledebeast/pseuds/Lyledebeast
Summary: Rose takes on a duty that no one else wants.  Hux can't make any sense of his life.  Both think they have the other all figured out, but what will happen as they get to know each other better?





	1. For the Republic

“I’ve decided that it’s time to release our prisoner.  It’s past time. But we have a conundrum, and that’s why I have invited you all here. Where is he going to go?”

For long moments, the four of them only looked at each other.  Rose couldn’t help but wonder that they had all know this was coming for weeks, but still none had a better sense of how to respond than herself.

“Well, there’s nothing I can do,” Rey said, finally breaking the silence.  “He can barely stand to be in the same room with a Force user.  Except for you, General.”

Leia heaved a sigh.  “Just barely.  And I suppose that’s because he has no choice,” she said softly, almost more to herself.  “So, not Rey, then,” she went on, addressing them all again.  “I don’t like to ask this of any of you, but there is no one else that he trusts.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it trust, General.” Poe said.  “I talked to him today.  As long as we’ve kept him here, he still expects us to execute him.  I don’t like to disagree with you, but . . .”

“But you’ve never let it stop you before, Poe,” she interjected with a tired smile.  Rose felt a pang of sympathy as she looked at her.  In spite of the peace they had all hoped for having finally come to pass, Leia Organa seemed to have aged years.  She supposed that victory was no match for grief.  Not when your only child was dead, as unrepentant as he may have turned out to be.

Finn looked from Poe to Leia and back again.  “He can’t come with us either.  I’m sorry but . . . we just have too much history.  I’m glad he helped us.  But there are things I just can’t forgive.”

He looked to his boyfriend, and Poe nodded.  “I absolutely agree.  That’s asking too much, especially for you.”

Rose noticed that no one so much as looked in her direction, and the fact piqued her more than it should.  She had been part of the team when they captured him; didn’t they care what she had to say?

Leia sighed again.  “It is a lot to ask.  We’ve all been at war for so long; of course you all want to move on.  The last thing you want is a dour former First Order general in your spare bedroom.  Maybe he’s safest where he is.  But I thought it was worth a try.”

Rose watched as they other three dropped their eyes to the table, embarrassed by the disappointment in Leia’s voice.  The room grew so quiet that Rose’s voice sounded deafening when she heard herself speak.

“I’ll do it.  He can sleep on my couch.”

They all stared at her as though she had spoken in Wookie, eyes wide in shock.

“Rose,” Finn whispered.  “No.”

“Well, why not?” she asked, more harshly than she intended.  She felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment when Finn looked away, but she went on undaunted. She turned her attention to Poe next.

“You said he doesn’t trust us.  If we leave him here after he’s been pardoned, aren’t we just proving him right?”

He frowned at that but didn’t disagree.  The pardon had proven controversial, even in the small group surrounding her.  Finn had been particularly set against it. But with her brother’s help, Leia had finally convinced them that benefit of all the lives that could be saved outweighed the cost of sparing one man the death he certainly deserved.  It was the only way to get his help, after all. And not even Finn could argue with both Skywalker twins.

“It’ll be thankless work, Rose. You know that,” Poe cautioned.  “You have so little space in that apartment, and he’s not going to appreciate the gesture anyway.”

Rose was starting to feel weary already.  “Listen, I don’t like him any more than the rest of you, but I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing this for the Republic.  What does it say about us if we don’t keep our word?” She made a pointed effort not to look at Finn this time.

It would not have made much difference if she had; by this point, only the general was looking at her.  And she was smiling.

“Thank you, Rose.  I won’t forget this.”

Rose smiled back, warmth filling her for a moment.  Until panicked realization set in.

“Well, I know that you all have a lot to do, so I won’t keep you,” Leia said as she stood.  “Rose, I suppose you had better give Hux the good news.”


	2. Call Me Rose

He stretched out on the narrow bed with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.  It wasn’t the most comfortable position; his arms and the thin pillow provided little support for his neck, but the strain kept him alert. And being alert was the only defense he had now.

The footsteps he heard were slow, as though they belonged to someone who was uncertain of where they were going, or how much they really wanted to be there.  He had few enough visitors that he half expected them to keep going even as they slowed by his door.  Even when they stopped, he refused to look at them until he heard his name.

“Hux?”

He turned his head with a bemused smirk. “Tico, isn’t it? How unsurprising.”

She narrowed her dark eyes at him, already annoyed.  In truth, he was a bit surprised that she had been chosen.  After all, she had already tasted the pleasure of inflicting pain on him.  Quite literally, as it happened. He would have thought her companions would want a turn.

“Listen,” she began, impatient.  “I just came to tell you that you’ll be leaving tomorrow, so . . . get ready.”

Hux sat up, turning his head to take in the room before looking back at her.  “Well, it shouldn’t take me long to pack, should it?” he asked icily.

Rose sighed, looking up at the ceiling.  She didn’t want to look at him, but it didn’t seem to be her way to drop her eyes.  Or perhaps she just knew how much shorter it would make her look.

“I just wanted you to know in advance.”

Hux scoffed but decided to play along.

“Then thank you, I suppose, for the courtesy, Tico.”

That did get her attention.  Her eyes were hard when they met his.

“It’s Rose.  Call me Rose.”

He arched an eyebrow.  “Oh? Are we on a first-name basis now?”  She was very invested in this ruse; he had to give her that.  He hadn’t expected a rebel to be such a good actor.  They were all so bloody earnest.

“I don’t know.  Do you even have a first name?”

Hux felt his jaw tighten at that.  Her lips curled into a smile for only a second before the veneer of politeness was back.  “Look, I would prefer that you call me by my name in my home.  You’ll get used to it, because I am not going to answer to anything else.  Sleep well, Hux.”

And with that she was gone, leaving him to wonder what veiled threat her last words carried.

* * *

Poe was right; Rose’s apartment was small.  But then, for her it was just the right size.  At first it had even felt like too much space.  She had been used to barracks and had shared even smaller spaces with Paige before they joined the Resistance.  It wasn’t the size that was the issue for her; it was the silence.  It was so quiet it had taken her hours to fall asleep the first night.

Now, a couple of months later, she was used to it.  She liked being able to come in from a day at work and have no one to answer to but herself.  If she wanted to go to sleep, there was no one to keep her awake.  And she could eat whatever she wanted.

Rose hadn’t been near a kitchen since her mother was alive.  She had been one of the best cooks in their community, renowned for her spicy soups.  Now that autumn had arrived, she had been trying to recreate them, but with little luck so far.  It seemed that she would either use the wrong spice or the wrong amount of it.  At first, timid, she had used so little that she could barely taste anything.  The next time she overcompensated; the stew had been so hot she couldn’t eat it and had ended up throwing it all out.  After that, she had given up relying on memory and turned to instructional holos. 

Sometimes she imagined that it might be nice to have someone to cook for, someone to come home to at the end of the day.  But she also had a pretty clear idea of who that should be, and he could not be more different from the one she was expecting now. She found herself trying to see the space as someone like Hux might.  Failing, she tried instead to imagine someone like him in that space, and that was even harder.  And yet this time tomorrow, it will be a reality, she thought.  It was enough to give her a headache.

She made herself a cup of herbal tea and had just settled down on the sofa under her pink throw when she heard a knock at the door.  It was unusual for anyone to visit her so late, so she took a look in the surveillance mirror she had installed as a security measure.  She opened the door quickly to invite Finn and Poe in.

“That’s alright, Rose,” Finn assured her.  “We won’t stay long.  I know it’s late.  Poe and I just wanted to tell you something.”

Rose grew suspicious as he turned to his boyfriend, which seemed to take Poe by surprise as well.

“Oh, um.  So, Finn and I talked after you left, and we decided that Hugs can stay with us.  We don’t want you to have to take that on with all you’ve done already.”

When he finished, they both turned to Finn, Rose’s eyes wide with disbelief.

“Oh, Finn.  No!” she cried, half-indignant.  Was this his way to repay her for having saved his life?

“I thought about what you said.  About it being for the Republic.  I can put my feelings aside for that.  I should.

Rose peered at Poe, whom she thought still looked unconvinced.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.  “Listen, I wouldn’t have offered to do it if it wasn’t fine. And I’ll be safe.  I can defend myself from General Hugs.  That’s the least I can do.”

Poe smiled.  “No one doubts that, Rose.  You’ve proven you can do that, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s not for long,” Rose offered weakly.  She could see in the faces of the two men that they didn’t believe it any more than she did.  It would be until Hux found somewhere to go, some other life to lead.  As notorious as he was, who knew how long that would take? If it ever happened at all. Her headache grew worse.

Still, their offer didn’t change her mind.  Finn had only been living with Poe for a few weeks, and it was his first relationship.  Who knew what kind of strain an unwelcome houseguest would put on something so fragile?  The first thing she had said to Finn when he told her was that she was going to support him in whatever he wanted.  And she would, no matter what.

“Besides, I already told him, and he’s suspicious enough as it is. If we change plans now, how will he feel?”

Finn frowned darkly.  “I’m not sure I care how he feels about it.”

“And that’s my point,” Rose said.  In truth, she was making it up as she went along, but Finn had given her just what she needed.  “You don’t care.  As far as you’re concerned, he’ll always be the man in charge of the stormtrooper program.  And you’re probably right.  But he did help us win, even if it was only to save himself.  I don’t have your history with him.”

Finn raised his eyebrows at that.  “Well, only a small part it,” she clarified.  “Not enough to make it impossible for me to think he can change.”

He still looked unconvinced.  “You still think he can?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug.  “But I think he’s better off with someone who doesn’t know than someone who has already made up their mind.  And I think General Organa would agree with me.”

That was all it took.  Finn sighed and looked at Poe.  “Well, we gave it a try, didn’t we?”

Poe nodded, relief written all over his face.  Rose felt a pang of jealousy.  He was smitten with Finn; why else would he even consider this plan?  She had been smitten with Finn too, and what did it get her? General Hugs.

“If he gives you any trouble, you let us know,” Finn said, a fierce glint in his eye.  Rose nodded.  She appreciated how protective of her he felt.  That was something at least.

But not enough to keep her from freezing with surprise when he bent down to hug her.  She hesitated a moment before she wrapped her arms around him.  It was the first time they had been so close since she had kissed him months before.

Not to be outdone, Poe hugged her too.  “Let us know if you need anything,” he murmured, and then they were gone.

Rose sighed and picked up her tea to take a sip.  It was cold now, and she poured it down the drain.  Oh well, she thought, setting the kettle to boil another cup.  It wasn’t as though her nerves would let her get any sleep anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If all goes as planned, I'll update about once a week hereafter. The chapter count may change; it could be more or less than 15. Who knows?


	3. This is Your Home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a very brief suicide attempt mention. There is no actual attempted suicide.

Hux was deathly quiet all the way to her apartment, like a man going to face execution. Rose had quickly decided it was better that way.  If he said nothing at all, then he could say nothing that would make her regret refusing Poe and Finn’s offer to deal with him.  It wasn’t until they reached the front door that she began to feel self-conscious.  The apartment was clean and neat; she had always been a tidy person.  But it was personal.  Anything cruel he said about it would sting, and she prepared herself to control her temper.

As he stepped in and looked around, though, his expression only showed confusion.

“This is . . . your home?”

“Yes,” she replied sharply.  “That’s what I told you.  Where did you think we were going?”

To her relief, he didn’t reply to that.  He turned to look at the door they had just come through.  When he faced her again, his confusion appeared to have cleared, replaced by grim smile.

“Is that a camera?” he asked, indicating the security mirror.

Rose frowned, confused now herself.  “Yes.  Why?”

Hux’s smile chilled her.  “Well then.  You have all the proof you need that you brought me here safely.”

He looked so triumphant as he waited for her response that she finally realized what he meant.

“Oh for kriff’s sake, Hux,” she snapped.  “You really think I brought you here to murder you in secret? Why would we keep it a secret? The whole galaxy wants you dead; wouldn’t we capitalize on that if we did too? Doesn’t that make sense in your pitiless First Order logic? What you’re suggesting is just ridiculous.”

His smile faded.  He made no reply at first, but his expression was subdued.  It was a small victory.

“I’m going to make tea,” Rose announced.  “Would you like a cup?”

He gave no indication that he had heard her.

“Hux?”

“No,” he replied.  His lips parted again, as though he was going to say something else, but he closed them again just as quickly.

Rose’s forehead creased as she made her way to the kitchen, almost as confused as Hux.

She kept herself busy while the water boiled, fiddling with the organization of her dishes.  No sound came from the living room, and she tried to reassure herself that it was a good sign.  As the tea steeped, she opened the refrigerator.  None of the dishes she had made had turned out the way she wanted them to that week, but at least there was plenty of bread, cold meats, and some fresh vegetables from her trip to the market that morning.  She supposed that would be enough for them both.

When she returned with her tea, Hux was standing in precisely the same spot.

“Sit down, Hux!” she ordered, exasperated.  “You’re making me nervous.”

A flash of indignation crossed his face, and again he opened his mouth, as though about to remind her who she was talking to.  Her fingers tightened on her cup; she considered whether it would be worthwhile to throw it in his face.

Then, to her surprise, he obeyed.  He looked no less stiff sitting in the middle of her sofa with his arms folded on his lap than he had standing, but it was enough. Sitting down in the chair nearby, she took a sip of her tea.

“You know, you might as well relax.  You’re going to be sleeping there.”

Hux cast sideways glances at the sofa in each direction, looking doubtful, but he made no reply.  She supposed it was a little small; it had been chosen with a much shorter person in mind.

“Listen,” Rose went on.  “I just wanted to say that . . . you’re not my prisoner.  You’re here for your safety until General Organa finds some further use for you.  You’ll get a job and a place of your own, and you’ll be out of my hair.”

She paused to give him a chance to comment, but he said nothing.  He wasn’t even looking at her, just staring intently at the floor in front of him.

“That’s my room,” she said, pointing at the bedroom door and coughing until his eyes met hers and followed her hand.  “But you have free run of everywhere else.  Help yourself to whatever you need.  Food, towels . . . you have your stuff from your cell but if you need anything else . . .

“You’re not going to watch me shave, are you?”

Rose blinked in confusion at the unexpected question.  Then her eyes narrowed and she searched his face for any signs of sarcasm.  “Um, no.  Why would I want to do that?”

“I was never allowed to shave unsupervised in prison.”

It took a moment for Rose to realize what that meant, and the thought made her queasy.  “Well, since the tile in the bathroom is white, I really hope you won’t slit your throat.  The stains would never come out.”

She thought she saw the hint of a smile tug at the corners of his lips, but it was gone before she could be sure.

“Anyway, I’m not going to be able to supervise you during the day because I’ll be a work.  You’ll be left to your own devices.  If there’s anything you would like to, I don’t know, read, let me know.  You’re going to have a lot of downtime.”

Hux did smile at that, but it was a bitter one.  “And what do you imagine I was doing all this time waiting for your general to make up her mind about what she was going to do with me?”

Rose sighed.  There was no way to answer that without one of them getting provoked, and she had avoided that so far. She reached for her teacup, drinking in silence until it was empty.

When she looked at Hux again his posture had relaxed somewhat.  His arms were still crossed, but his head was resting on the back of the sofa and his eyes were shut.  Rose found herself wondering how he felt.  Now that he knew she wasn’t going to kill him—not yet, anyway—did he feel relieved? How much sleep had he gotten last night given what he thought was going to happen to him?

“Hux?”

His eyes opened and he heaved an exasperated sigh.  He hadn’t been asleep at all.

“When was the last time you ate?”

He glared at her as though answering such a question was beneath him.  “I’m not hungry”

Asshole, she thought.  That wasn’t the question.  But instead she said, “We’ll I’m having dinner.  If you want something later, you can help yourself.”

She didn’t give him time to answer before she was on her feet. 

When she returned, this time with a steaming bowl of soup, Hux had relaxed again, but as she drew closer he sniffed and opened his eyes.  His brow creased and he frowned.  “You’re eating in here?” he asked, petulant.

Before she could stop herself, her temper flared. “Yes, this is my living room! In my apartment! Which means I go where I please, and if you don’t want to be in the room with me, you can take yourself elsewhere.”

Rose tightened her grip on the bowl as he stood.  This she didn’t mind throwing in his face too much; she had over-salted the soup and it wasn’t nearly spicy enough.  But he didn’t even look at her.  He picked up the bag he had brought with him and made his way to the refresher.

Rose felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment.  Somehow, he had kept his temper when she had not, and she didn’t understand it.  If he would rage back, she would know how to handle him.  She supposed she should be glad to have a fairly compliant Hux to deal with instead, but she didn’t know what to make of him.  At least she had a few minutes to herself.

She was washing her dishes when Hux emerged from the fresher, dressed now in threadbare prison pajamas, his arms crossed awkwardly over his chest. Strands of red hair stuck to his forehead, still damp.  It made him look almost approachable.

“Are you going to . . . at what time do you go to bed?”

He chose his words so carefully that Rose felt herself relax.  If he was actively trying not to set her off again, perhaps they would both survive this first night unscathed.

“Not until later than this,” she answered.  “But, I know you must be tired, so I’ll go into my room and shut the door.  You can have he living room to yourself.”

Hux only gave her a cold nod in response, but she thought he looked relieved. 

Once the dishes were done, she got some clean sheets and a blanket and took them into the living room. She was a little surprised to find him already stretched out on his back, but he quickly got up when he saw her.  As though she had caught him doing something wrong.  As she bent down to tuck one sheet around the sofa cushions, she knew he was her.  It was the most awkward she could remember feeling in her life.

“It can get pretty cold at night.  This blanket should be enough, but if you get cold you can always use that too.” She pointed to the pink throw decorating the back of the sofa.

“My friend Vi made that for me.  It’s really warm.” The stitching was a bit uneven, and the shade had changed about halfway through when Vi ran out pink yarn.  It was the first thing she had ever knitted, and she was just happy to be finished finally.  But to Rose it was beautiful.

Hux glanced at it, then back at her, giving another terse nod.

She gave up.  She thought she should, anyway.  Just go into her room, turn off the lights and try to forget that he was out here, and this whole inconvenient ordeal would continue tomorrow.  But something in the back of her mind tugged at her, insisting that Hux was her guest and should be treated as such.

“Sleep well,” she said.

She didn’t look at him; it wasn’t really for him, but it did silence that inner voice.  But it was enough to make her eyes widen in shock when she heard his barely audible “thank you.”

He made no other sound for the next few hours.  Sitting on her bed in her pajamas, Rose picked up one book and then another, but none could hold her attention as she listened.  She had just decided to turn out the lights and go to sleep when she heard a loud cry and froze.  Perhaps it was coming from outside, she thought, but then she heard it again, unmistakably coming from the living room.  She put on her robe and rushed out, turning on he light as she entered.

“Hux?”

He was curled into a ball underneath the blanket and throw, shaking and muttering in his sleep.  She approached cautiously, wondering if she should shake him awake or not.  She settled for calling his name again, louder.

At last, his eyes opened, and he raised his hand to cover them.

“Are you okay?”

He took a few shaky breaths before answering.  “Fine.  It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing.  It sounded like you were being murdered!”

She reproached herself as soon as the words were out.  He was blinking at the bright lights, but was still curled up on his side, the covers clutched tight around him.  He was either much more cold-natured than she, or he was still terrified.

“You’re alright,” she said, more gently.  “You just had a bad dream, but you’re safe.  I’m gonna get you another blanket.”

When she came back, his legs had stretched out a little and his eyes were closed again.  She wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not as she lay the blanket over him, making sure that it covered his feet.  Before she returned to bed, she looked down at him.  A peculiar feeling stirred within her.  Surely, a person who had done the things he’d done had plenty of reasons to have nightmares.

She just never thought he would.


	4. Do You Have Nightmares Often?

He awoke the next morning with a start.  The light coming through the window shades let him see just enough of his surroundings to note that they were unfamiliar.  And the sofa was much softer than the narrow bed he had become used to.  As he reached up to rub the sleep from eyes, memories from the last night flooded back, unwelcome.  He couldn’t remember the dream itself, only that he had apparently shouted loud enough to awaken Tico.  She had come in and covered him with another blanket, which had left him sweating and had been kicked off only moments after she left. But at least there had been no more dreams.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

He knew he had angered her, especially with his comment about the camera.  She had wanted to hurt him, yet she hadn’t.  He had searched the rest of the room for any visible cameras and found none.  Whatever she did to him in the apartment, there would be no evidence of it.  So why did she seem so concerned about him? Perhaps the Resistance—or the Republic, as he supposed they called themselves now—had some further use for him.  Perhaps she was trying to lull him in a state of calm.  But even as he considered it, her words from the previous day came back.  It was illogical. He supposed he could kill Tico and win his freedom at least, but how long would that last? And knew he wouldn’t be pardoned a second time.   It was clear that he had no power anymore; they could do as they pleased with him, calm or violent.

Besides, he found that he didn’t really want to.  She had done more than resist his provocation; she had been considerate of him.  It had been a long time since anyone had thought about his wellbeing who wasn’t considering their own even more.

He felt almost embarrassed to be thinking of her when she came out of her bedroom.  She was bleary-eyed, her long hair thrown messily over her shoulders, wearing the same fuzzy red robe she had on the previous night.  He considered whether she had been able to go back to sleep after he woke her up.

“Morning,” she murmured.  To his relief, she neither waited for an answer nor looked at him but made her way to the kitchen.  He heard the sound of cups clattering and water being poured.  No doubt she was making tea again.  His stomach let out a growl and he lay his hand on it, trying in vain to repress the sound.  He hadn’t eaten since the previous morning in his cell and was starting to feel lightheaded.

He could just pick up the faintest scent of herbs as she poured the hot water over the leaves, and it was enough to make his stomach gurgle again.  At least tea would be easier to bear than the overwhelming savory scent of her soup the night before. That had made his mouth water.

Unfortunately, when she arrived in the room, so did a stronger scent.  There was some kind of fruit in the tea as well.  And something sweet.  He lay back on the sofa cushion and pulled the blankets tighter around him. Perhaps if he closed his eyes . . .

“Did you go to sleep last night after you . . . woke up?”

No such luck.  Hux opened his eyes again, watching her cautiously.  She didn’t say “after you woke me up,” though it had clearly affected her. For a second, he wondered how he looked to her.  “Yes.”

She nodded and sipped her tea.  “That’s good.  Now when . . . what did you eat when you were in prison?”

He noted the change in her tactics.  She wasn’t stupid; that much was certain.  It was important information to file away.  “They gave me ration bars.  Three a day.”

Tico’s lip curled with disgust, but she made no comment.  “I know I don’t have any of those, but I’ll see what I can find a work today.”

Hux hated the feeling of relief that flooded him.  “It’s really not necessary . . .” he began.

 “I can hear your tummy growling from here, Hux. So I think it is.”

He scowled at her.  His tummy?

“If you just don’t want to eat in front of me, you know you’re welcome to eat my food while I’m gone.”

It took her saying it to make him realize that was the issue.  Perhaps it was not the food but the observation that was the problem.  He was making plans to follow her suggestion when she added, “I haven’t poisoned it, after all.”

He looked up, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. “That you feel the need to say tht is not very comforting.”

Tico rolled her eyes.  “You know, I could just as easily poison ration bars, too.”

“You could indeed.” Hux felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. 

She glowered back a him.  “Then I suppose you’re either going to have to trust me or starve to death, aren’t you?”

He didn’t have an answer for that, so he kept silent, his eyes shifting to the wall.  He heard Tico sigh and get up, walking back into the kitchen.  She showered, dressed, and left for work without saying another word to him.

While she was gone, Hux moved around more than he had since he arrived.  Tico’s home was well-organized, but it was such an odd feeling being in someone else’s quarters.  He opened the refrigerator, but everything was so neatly in place that he knew he could not take anything without its absence being detected, and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Besides, most of it was unfamiliar to him; he hadn’t spent this much time planetside in years and had certainly never been on this planet before.

He showered again, even though he didn’t really need it, and put on a change of underwear.  He looked at his prison clothes with irritation. Soon, he would need to do laundry, which he had not done for himself in many more years than had passed since he had eaten fresh fruit.  For that, he would have to ask for Tico’s assistance, and he dreaded it already.  It wasn’t just the thought of her relishing his dependence on her; he wasn’t entirely sure that she would.  But when she offered to share things with him, or do things for him, a little tug of memory urged him to be polite in turn.  He hated it. She was still his captor, as much as she tried to deny it.  It would not do to complicate or confuse matters.

He hated the twinge of anxious excitement he felt when she arrived back home even more.

“Okay, Hux, this is your lucky day,” she announced, holding up a bag.  “I sent a message to the rest of my mechanics unit telling them I needed any ration bars they had left.”

Hux reached for the bag, trying not to seem too eager even as his mouth began to water in expectation.  At least Tico couldn’t see that.  He started to tear into the wrapper of one, then paused.

“Did you tell them what they were for?”

Tico gave a bark of laughter and shook her head.  “No.  If I don’t get to poison you, you don’t think I’m going to let someone else do it?”

Hux looked down into the bag to hide his smile.  No, he supposed she wouldn’t.

There were bars of all flavors, both sweet and savory, ones he recognized and others he did not.  He returned to the one he had started with and pulled it all the way open, inhaling the aroma of seaweed.  It had never been one of his favorites in the past, but now it smelled divine.  His hands began to shake as he held it, which seemed to give Tico a clue.

“If you need anything, let me know.  I’ll be in the kitchen, eating real food.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Hux wolfed the bar down, licking his fingers when he was finished.

* * *

Tico returned after she finished preparing her own dinner, but this time Hux minded her company less.  The soup, which smelled the same as it had the previous night, seemed less inviting after three ration bars.  The flavors had not been complimentary, but he hardly minded.  It was enough just to have a full stomach again.

“So, how did you occupy yourself today?” Her tone was conversational, and for the first time, Hux found himself wanting to indulge her.  She had provided him with food, after all.

“I looked around . . . a little.” He nodded towards her bookshelf.  “I read a bit in your mechanics textbooks.”

That seemed to surprise her.  “Really? Did you find what you were looking for?”

He heard the hint of teasing in her voice and it made him frown.

“I actually found them quite out of date.  There have been many advances in technology for which they fail to account.”

Tico only shrugged.  “Well, I suppose you’re the expert in these matters.  I’m only an actual practicing mechanic.”

He tried to think of a cutting reply to that, but nothing came to him. 

“I’ll have a look tomorrow,” she added.  “See if I can’t find something more recent at work.”

He looked at her, unable to hide his intrigue.  She couldn’t kill him with a book. Could she?

“That would be . . .” it was more of a struggle than usual to come up with the right word.  “Satisfactory.”

She had the effrontery to laugh at him.  “Satisfactory? Okay, well, that will make it worth my while!” With a sardonic shake of her head, she turned her attention went back to the soup.

When she spoke again, her tone was softer.  Almost worried.

“Did you sleep any today?

The question caught him off guard, and he could only shake his head.  Perhaps he should have, but the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. He had felt too anxious.  And too hungry.

“No,” he said simply.

Tico nodded.  “Maybe it’s better that way. If you don’t sleep during the day, you may sleep better at night.”

His cheeks warmed.  He knew what she was referring to, but it relived him that she had chosen not to be explicit.  She had seen him vulnerable but seemed to have no interest in exploiting it.  That would certainly take getting used to.

* * *

He had every hope of a dreamless sleep, but it came to nothing. 

He was back in his bed in the Finalizer, under the covers, but wide awake.  He hadn’t been able to go to sleep on his own in weeks, but he was afraid to drug himself.

_“Knocking yourself out won’t save you, Hux.  It only means you won’t know what I’ve done until you awaken.”_

Even keeping the lights at 0 percent didn’t help him sleep, but it did make him more aware of the precise moment the door soundlessly opened.  The light from outside cast an enormous shadow on the door for moment, and then it was gone.  Hux screamed when he felt to covers torn off of him and again, louder, when he felt enormous hands grab at his ankles.

Then he felt a hand far too gentle to belong to his attacker on his shoulder, shaking him.

“Hux! Hux, wake up!”

His eyes flitted open and focused on Tico’s worried face.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, still coming back to himself.  It took a moment for him to realize what he had said, and then felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Tico’s face softened immediately.  “Come on,” she said gently.  “Let’s get up and go to the kitchen.  I was thinking about a midnight snack anyway.”

Hux looked down, noting that her hand was still on his shoulder.  She seemed to have forgotten too, for as soon as he noticed she moved it, stood up, and walked away.  For reasons he didn’t entirely understand, he got up and followed her.

Tico had gotten out a cutting board and knife and was slicing a piece of fruit.  It was a curious mixture of yellow and red on the outside with white flesh.  She picked up a slice in her right hand and brought to her lips; it made a pleasant-sounding crunch when she bit into it. With her other hand, she held out a piece to him.  Tentatively, he took hold of the white part, surprised to find it both moist and cold.  The delicate, almost floral aroma of it made him curious enough to bite.  It was delicious: the sweetest thing he had eaten in years, but not cloying.  He finished it in tiny bites, savoring each one.  When he looked at Tico again, he wasn’t surprised to see her grinning.

“Here.  Have another,” she urged.

He ate two more slices before she spoke again.

“Do you have nightmares often?”

Chewing slowly to buy himself time, Hux tried to remember.  “I don’t know,” he answered.  “When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t remember what my dream was about.  I think I only remembered that I had dreamed at all because you woke me up.  No one ever did that when I was in prison. Or even before then.”

It took seeing her eyes widen for him to realize that he had just said more in a few seconds than in the past two days.  Had she put something in the fruit?

“But I know they gave you . . . um . . . an evaluation.  They didn’t ask you about that?”

Hux scoffed.  “Oh, that. That was about whether I am homicidal or not. It wasn’t about my psychological well-being.”

Tico’s eyes narrowed with skepticism, but she let the matter go.

“I guess it’s not unusual to have bad dreams in a new place,” she said with a shrug.  She finished off the last slice of her half and put the knife and board in the sink.

“Let’s go back to sleep.  Hopefully, it will last this time.”

He followed her in silence, expecting her to say no more, but just before she opened her bedroom door she turned to face him.

“By the way, now that you seem to believe I won’t poison you, is there anything I can get you? I have to pick up groceries tomorrow anyway.”

Why not, Hux thought. What did he have to lose?

“Do you think . . . do you know anything about tarine tea?”

She pressed her lips together thoughtfully.  “I think I have heard of it.  I’ve never bought it, but the name is familiar.”

“Do you think you can find it?” he asked, grimacing inwardly at how eager he sounded.  With any luck, she would simply have forgotten this conversation when she woke up.  But there was the slightest chance.

“I don’t know, but I’ll certainly look for it.”                                                                                      

She bade him goodnight, and this time he almost replied.


	5. That is Not Tarine Tea

He found himself waiting anxiously for her return the next day.  The awkward civility of the previous night had continued after Tico woke up.  He had asked her about laundry and she had shown him the machines and explained how to use them.  She had offered to get him more pajamas so he could wash the ones he was still wearing, and he had thanked her before he could stop himself.  Mercifully, she had left after that, though not before reminding him that he had shown interest in other items as well.

Once she was gone, he helped himself to another ration bar and a piece of fruit from the fridge and waited for his laundry to finish.  Taking it out, he breathed a sigh of relief.  The clothes were hideous, baggy and pale grey, but it was good to wear something clean that smelled nice again.  He stretched out on the sofa and tried to get some sleep, but his worries kept him awake.  Why was she being so generous to him? He had to admit that his imminent death at her hands seemed unlikely.  He knew nothing about her past, but it wasn’t like the Resistance to waste resources.  And she wasn’t simply caring for him out of duty, either.  She seemed to take genuine pleasure in it.  It was the oddest thing.

Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, roused to alarm by Tico’s triumphant cry when she returned.

“I got it!”

He sat up and blinked, rubbing his eyes.  What could she possibly have gotten that could justify all this noise?

“What are you talking about, Tico?”

The smile faded from her face, replaced by an annoyed pout.  Just as he registered her annoyance, he remembered what she was supposed to bring him and sighed.  Of all the times to offend her.

“That’s not my name, Hux.”

He knew that was not the name she had requested he call her; the trouble was, he couldn’t remember it.  Some flower.  Violet? Lavender? Kriff! He used to be good at this.

“It’s Rose,” she said dully.

“I’m sorry . . . Rose.” He barely recognized the soft, pleading tone as his own voice.  Stars, he was pathetic.  But hopefully, she would read it simply as polite.

He exhaled when she gave him a tiny smile “Here,” she said, pulling a small object from her bag. “Catch.”

Hux swore inwardly; his reflexes had never been good.  Luckily, Rose threw the box so gently that all he had to do was hold out his hands.  It turned out not to be a box at all but a tin.  A tin neatly labeled “Tarine Tea” in bold letters and below, in smaller letters, “loose leaf.”

Loose leaf? What did that mean?

As Rose watched, he tugged at the tight lid, frustration mounting. When it finally came loose, it was with such force that the open container jostled, spilling some of its contents onto Hux’s lap.

Its contents were fragile dried leaves that crumbled between his thumb and forefinger when he picked them up.  The fragrance was that of the tarine tea he loved, but it looked nothing like it.

“This is not tarine tea.” If he didn’t sound pathetic before, he certainly did now. “It . . . it’s supposed to be in bags.”

Rose took the tin from him gently, pushing the lid back on.

“You’ve truly only ever had it in bags?” she asked.  It was same soft, pitying tone she had used the night before.  He felt his cheeks warm as he nodded.

“Well,” she said on as he glanced up.  “You’re in for a treat.  Come with me.”

* * *

Hux looked positively anxious as he followed her into the kitchen, and it was all Rose could do to keep from laughing.  She knew that he took many things far too seriously, but it had never occurred to her that tea might be one of them. It was a good thing she had washed her ceramic teapot and left it in the drainer to dry while she was at work. 

She put the kettle on a turned her attention to the tarine tea, frowning thoughtfully as she opened the tin.  She had never cared for black tea, and it had been so long since she prepared it that she wasn’t sure how much to add.  When she turned to Hux, it was clear that that he would be no help; he was looking back and forth between the black tin and her yellow pot as though he had no comprehension of how they would work together.

How like the First Order, she thought with a sigh.  No idea where anything they used actually came from, no appreciation for the work it took to produce it.  Only exploitation and consumption.

She put two heaping teaspoons into the pot to be safe.

When the kettle whistled, she took it off the hot eye to cool for a moment.

“I don’t suppose you know how long this tea is supposed to steep, do you?”

The look he shot her was positively offended.  “What do you think I did? Do you think I had time to send for a droid every time I wanted a cup of tea?”

You must have needed it a lot to do anything for yourself, she thought.  “So, do you know how long it steeps?”

“Of course.  Five minutes.”

She looked at the tea in the pot skeptically.  As strong and earthy as it smelled, she imagined it would be quite bitter after that long.  But, it was his tea, after all. He had no one to blame but himself if it proved undrinkable.

“Five minutes, then,” she said as she set the timer and poured the hot water over the pot.

Hux remained glued to the spot the entire time as Rose set about putting away the rest of her groceries.  As she was shopping, she had wished she’d asked Hux for suggestions but it probably would have done no good.  Even the concept of real food was foreign to him; he would just have to trust her about more things than just apples.

When the timer went off, Hux was standing so close to the counter that Rose bumped his hip when she reached for the pot. His back went ramrod straight at the touch, but he stepped out of her way without even a sideways glance.

“Want anything in this? Milk? Sugar?” she asked as he poured it into the cup, her eyes going wide at the dark color.  It looked more like caf than tea.

She was confident of the answer he would give, but it made her grin all the same to see the outraged grimace on his face.

When she handed him the cup, she found that she was almost as eager as he was.  He stared into the cup, lifting it closer to his face and inhaling deeply.  His eyes fluttered shut.

Is it good? Rose wanted to ask.  Is it how you remembered? But the answer was obvious. And besides, she didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“Okay, if you’re good, I’m going to start dinner,” she said as she pulled out her cutting board and began arranging her vegetables.  She could hear the soft sound of him blowing on his tea to cool it and felt a twinge of empathy.  If she couldn’t have her herbal tea, she didn’t know what she would do.  But it was strange to realize that something so simple could make murderous General Hux happy too.  She happened to look up from her cutting board again just as he was taking his first sip.  His eyes fell shut again, and he smiled.

* * *

Hux stayed quiet as she ate her meal, a mixture of sautéed vegetables with dark wheat noodles, but he seemed more relaxed.  She started to ask if the caffeine would keep him awake but decided against it.  He had been pretty sound asleep when she got home that afternoon; if he wanted to stay up all night and sleep during the day like a bat, that was fine with her.  Perhaps it would be even better. Bats didn’t, as far as she knew, have nightmares.

Even so, after she went to bed she has trouble falling asleep.  She was glad to be on civil terms with Hux; it was the most she could have hoped for.  But this was more than just civility; she had, for however brief a time, actually enjoyed his company.  It was hard to know how she felt about that, especially when he hadn’t done anything.  He hadn’t apologized for all the evil he had done.  He hadn’t offered any help to the Republic (beyond what he had already done, she reminded herself).  All he had done was call her by her first name and drink the tea she had made him. 

The tea.  No sooner did she wonder what effect it would have on his sleeping when she heard him again.  It started off as troubled moaning, then grew into louder cries.  She got up, slipped on her robe, and left the room slowly as not to make too much noise.  Perhaps the dream would end, and she wouldn’t even have to make the offer she was considering.

When he cried out again, and she turned on a lamp to see him better.  Again, he was curled up in a tight ball under the covers, gripping them with one hand so hard that his knuckles were somehow even whiter than usual: bone-colored against the pallor of complexion.

She reached for his shoulder and gently shook him.

“Rose?” he mumbled against the pillow as he stirred.  “Did I . . .”

“Yes, you did,” she replied, stern.

He seemed almost contrite as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.  “I . . . I know I didn’t have them like this when I was . . . there.  I don’t know why this is happening.”

He sounded so forlorn that reached for his shoulder and squeezed it.  He was so thin and seemed so harmless this close up.  It made up her mind for her.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Hux dropped his hands and looked at her.  “To the kitchen?” He sounded almost hopeful.  She would have to remind him that he was permitted to go there by himself even when she as home, but that could wait for tomorrow.

“No, to the bedroom. I think you might . . . sleep better in a bed.”

His lips parted in surprise. For someone who had just awakened from a nightmare, he couldn’t have looked less relieved.  “But where will you sleep?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Come on, Hux.  Don’t you think if I were going to offer you my bed and sleep on the sofa, I would have done it on your first night?”

He made no reply to that but to look even more confused.  Rose sighed.

“Look, this is as much for me as for you, okay? I can’t keep waking up in the middle of the night every night.  After all, I am the only person working to support this household.”

His cheeks colored at that, and she wished she hadn’t said it.  She had taken on the responsibility; he hadn’t asked her to.

“What if I still have nightmares there?” he asked, timid.

Rose exhaled with relief; at least he was considering it.

“Well, if you do, at least I won’t have to get up.”

Hux tilted his head slightly to the side.  “That’s true.”

“I can just smother you with a pillow right there, and the problem will be over.”

His eyes opened wide for a moment; then he gave an unexpected bark of laughter.  It was a strained, uncertain sound.  As though it had been so long since he had laughed he wasn’t sure how to do it properly.

“That seems fair,” he admitted, rising to his feet.  “If you’re sure you won’t . . .”

“Don’t worry,” she interjected.  “I’m far too sleepy to be any threat to your virtue.”

Hux’s lips twitched into a smile for half a second.  “That’s not what I meant. But in any case, I suppose it is worth a try.”


	6. Seven Out of Ten

Rose rolled over after snoozing her alarm, still half asleep.  She reached out, stretching her arm until it encountered an obstacle.  It wasn’t smooth enough to be the wall, and she thought she was on the wrong side for that anyway.  Whatever it was was covered loosely with soft fabric, but hard and curved underneath.  And warm. She moved her palm from side to side until she recognized what the ridge she was touching was a shoulder blade.  Sliding her hand up, she found the curve of a shoulder and then a long, slender neck.

Had she brought someone home?  The idea was tantalizing.  She had often imagined that it would be so easy once she got a place of her own, but so far she hadn’t been so lucky.  Until last night, apparently.  She smiled as she combed her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.  Then she heard a sharp intake of breath, and the neck she was touching tensed.

Then she remembered.  She had indeed brought someone home.

She drew her hand back and froze, her heart racing.  Was Hux awake? Would he be upset?

Long moments passed before she was content that he wasn’t going to turn around.  Perhaps he imagined in his sleep that her hand was that of whomever had been giving him these nightmares, but he was fine now that she wasn’t touching him.

Slightly comforted, she got out of bed as quietly as she could, put on her robe and slippers, and all but raced from the room.

In the kitchen, she was surprised to see her teapot still sitting on the counter instead of the drainer, its usual spot.  It wasn’t until she lifted the lid and saw the foreign dark brown leaves in the filter that she remembered.

Tarine tea.  Hux’s tea.  He suddenly seemed inescapable.

She started to dump the leaves out to replace them with her own, but as she looked at them again curiosity overtook her.  They were still moist, and when she brought the filter up to her nose the fragrance wasn’t as strong as when she had opened the tin.  And a second brewing would be less strong.  Most importantly, trying the tarine tea would take less time than her usual one.  Besides, after the fright she had just had, maybe something strong was just what she needed.

* * *

Hux remained motionless until he was sure Rose was in the kitchen.  He sat up and lowered his legs over the side of the bed; when he stretched, he realized how much better his back felt after sleeping in a proper bed. 

Well, lying in a proper bed.

In truth, he had barely slept at all. The bed was large enough that he and Rose could lie side by side with a few inches between them, but he could feel the heat of her body under the covers and hear the soft sound of her breathing.  It had been so long since he had shared a bed with anyone that he hardly remembered what it felt like.  Or rather, he hadn’t let himself remember.

And that was before she had touched him.

He stepped into the refresher and looked at himself in the mirror.  The dark bags underneath his eyes gave him away immediately.  But then, it was possible that she hadn’t slept either, and would be showing her own signs of that.  The idea failed to please him; if anything, it made him feel worse.  The thought of being an inconvenience to someone else had certainly never bothered him before.  But then, he had never been in circumstances like these before.

 After he splashed water on his face and dried it, he though he looked a little more awake. 

When he arrived at the doorway to the kitchen, he saw that Rose was certainly not tired.  If anything, she seemed angry.  The way she scrubbed at the teapot in the sink was almost violent.

“Rose?”

She jerked her head up when he spoke and brandished the soapy filter at him.

“You think I’m trying to poison you, and you drink _that_?” The last word came out full of rancor.

His brow contracted with confusion; then he remembered.

“Oh? You tried the tarine tea?”

She scoffed.  “Tea? We could fuel an X-wing with that stuff! It’s so bitter I can still taste it after one sip!”

As though to emphasize her point, Rose dropped the filter back into the pot and spooned her herbal tea  into it.  When she poured the remaining hot water over it, she jiggled the filter from side to side, as though to make it steep faster.

“Poison indeed,” she muttered as she waited. “That’s not the way to do it.  For all you know people have been trying to poison you for years and you none the wiser.  You have the stomach of a tautan.”

Hux smiled.  She was probably right, about the poisoning attempts at any rate.  “I’ve heard that it’s an acquired taste.”

Disgust twisted Rose’s features.  “It must be.  How did you acquire it?”

The unexpected question threw him.  He had been drinking it for as long as he could remember, as much as ten cups a day until an inspection by the Finalizer’s medical droids revealed that it was damaging his digestive tract.

“I suppose from my father.  He drank it too.”

She raised her eyebrows, her confusion cleared by that bit of knowledge.  Hux looked away, suddenly self-conscious.

“Ohh, yeah.  That explains a lot,” she said. 

Hux narrowed his eyes.  “Explains what?” he snapped.  What did she imagine she knew about his father?

A flash of anger crossed her face, but then she turned her back, pouring a cup of tea and adding sugar to it before she faced him again.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Hux.  I suppose I picked up the habit from my parents too.  My mom used to grow herbs to make tea.”

Hux exhaled, glad of the change in topic.  The subject of families was usually something he avoided, but he would much rather talk about hers than his.

“Your parents . . . are they . . .?”

She sighed and blew on her tea instead of answering, and he knew that it was the wrong thing to ask.

“Both dead.  They were killed when . . . when the First Order shelled Hays Minor.”

“Ah,” Hux said lamely, not sure how to follow it.  She was looking down into her cup, dispirited, but he could hardly offer condolences.  He hadn’t ordered the attack, but it was the First Order’s work, so she was bound to hold him responsible regardless.

She raised her head. “Would you like a cup?”

He blinked with confusion and stared at her.  It took her picking up the tarine tin and shaking it for him to understand.

“Oh.  Yes . . . please,” he answered, timid.

She smiled, as though relieved for a moment before she pointed to her yellow pot and sternly said, “This is off limits to your black bile tea now.  I don’t know if even scrubbing it was enough to get it out.  But, there is another way.”

Patiently, she showed him how to measure the loose tea into a mug and steep it in the hot water from the kettle, then strain it.  “Though as much as you like the vicious bite it has, you might as well keep he leaves in.”

Hux gave her a lopsided smile as he took the cup from her.  “Well, you are the expert on vicious bites.”

She cocked her head to the side, then the skin around her eyes crinkled. A moment later, she burst into laughter.

“Kriff, Hux!” she cried.  “How long have you been waiting to bring that up?”

A strange feeling surged inside him, the opposite of what other people’s laughter usually did to him.  She was laughing because of him, not at him.  He liked it. He took a sip of tea to fortify himself.

“Well, it is a bit hard to forget.  After all, that was my first impression of you.”

She leaned against the counter, intrigued.  “Well, were you impressed?”

Hux felt heat creep into his cheeks.  Perhaps he had said to much.  What if he said the wrong thing again?

“I . . . on reflection, I thought you had a lot of pluck.”

She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  “I’ll take ‘pluck.’ ‘Pluck’ is good.  How would you evaluate my technique?”

He was beginning to sweat underneath the collar of his pajamas.  “Evaluate?”

“Yeah, out of ten?”

Hux took another sip.  It had been years since evaluations of anyone other than officers had been among his duties, and now he was being asked to evaluate someone who had tried to bite off his own finger?  It was surreal.

“I would say . . . seven out of ten.”

“Seven!” Rose cried with indignation.  “For a mechanic biting a _general_ who was about to have me executed? Come on, Hux!”

“Well, I do still have my finger,” he replied, shifting his cup to the other hand so he could hold up the digit in question.  “But otherwise, it was an impressive effort.”

She shook her head, her eyes still bright with humor.  “Just drink your tea, hard-ass.”

They stood and sipped in silence for a moment.  “Seven,” Rose muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.  When she caught his eye, he couldn’t help but smile.

“But then, I guess if I had bitten your finger off, you might not like me as much.”

He felt the blush in his cheeks darken and spread to his ears.  He took a few more nervous gulps, ignoring the way the hot tea burned his throat.  “Like her?” How was he supposed to respond to that?

A glance in her direction revealed that she was blushing, too, her eyes wide as though she couldn’t believe what she had just said.

 “Whoa, is that the time?” she cried, looking away from him.  “I can’t stand around all morning.  I have to . . . see you later, Hux.”

Too relieved to do anything but nod as she rushed past him, he stayed where he was until he heard the front door shut.  It was only when he got a piece of fruit from the fridge and a ration bar that he realized Rose had not eaten at all.  It wasn’t like her to skip a meal.  Unless . . . he replayed their conversation in his mind.  Unless he had made her nervous too?

He thought back to how she had touched him.  Her hand had been so gentle; as much as it had caught him by surprise, it had felt good.  And then she had snatched it away, as though she had suddenly woken up and realized what she was doing.

But that was nonsense.  He was dependent on her hospitality; he was the one who needed to have a good rapport with her.  For his own survival.  What did she have to be nervous about?


	7. Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look! Characters who aren't Rose and Hux for a change! There will be a couple of others, but there aren't a lot of characters in this fic.

The next week went far more smoothly than Rose would have imagined when she first agreed to take Hux in.  She had thought her life would change, clearly for the worse, and set herself up to be long-suffering.  But it had turned out to be quite easy to forget he was even there.  It wasn’t just that he was quiet; he took up so little space, even when she was in bed with him.

Even Paige, who was only a little taller than Rose herself, filled a space with her presence.  Even if they weren’t in the same room, Rose could hear her drumming her fingertips, tinkering with her work, or even muttering to herself.  It was a habit she had picked up from their mother, who ran a constant commentary even when she was cooking alone in the kitchen.

Paige had not, however, inherit their mother’s neatness as Rose had.  Wherever she went, she left signs that she had been there: tools, crumbs, sometimes even clothes stained by her X-wing’s engine.  Rose still found herself missing the mess sometimes.

Hux left no traces of himself.  Even his toiletries vanished into a cabinet in the ‘fresher when he wasn’t using them.  Since being invited into her bed that night, he had grown quite comfortable there.  He would often take a book and shut the door while she was preparing dinner for herself.  He was getting through her collection of mechanics texts at a speed that mystified her.  She certainly didn’t recall them as being that interesting.

There were only two times when they were together during the day.  When she got home from work, her yellow teapot and his black one would be clean and sitting side by side on the counter and the kettle would be full of water, even when she had been running late in the morning and knew she hadn’t washed her pot herself.  No matter what time she came home after finishing any last-minute projects at work or running any number of errands, he would emerge from wherever he had been when the kettle whistled and have a cup of tea with her.  Sometimes she talked about what she had done at work; sometimes he told her about what he had read, usually what parts of it were obsolete, but sometimes she would find that he had learned something, much to his surprise.  Sometimes they said very little, just enjoying each other’s company.  It was a ritual she had grown to look forward to.

The other one had been more of an effort on her part and had proven less successful.  As the first days had passed, the thought of him never leaving the apartment distressed her more and more.  It wouldn’t be safe for him if he was recognized, as he reminded her, but he needed the exercise.  “You’re not in prison anymore, Hux.  You don’t need to act like it.” He had gone on a walk with her that night, watching behind him and jumping at every noise like a prey animal, but no one had even taken notice of them.  Not that that had made it any easier to convince him to go out the following night.  Or the night after that.  But he did seem to sleep better on nights when she had been able to convince him.

His anxiety about these evenings walks was so great it came as no surprise that, when she told him she would be having dinner with Finn and Poe and would be home late, he was relieved.

They had been trying to get here to come for the past week, but she had always come up with some excuse. 

“Come on, Rose.  You’re not Hugs’ jailer,” Poe had said finally.  “You’re allowed a night off, you know.” After that, how could she refuse? 

He wasn’t entirely wrong, of course.  She was hesitant to leave Hux by himself all day, but not for the reasons they likely suspected.

* * *

“You’re here!” Finn said with a grin as he opened the door to her.  “Poe said you seemed a little iffy, so I’m glad.  Let me take your coat.”

The wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen beaconed her.  It smelled like summer by the sea: the fresh scent of tomatoes and herbs mixing with the briny shellfish made her mouth water.  Why did her food never smell this good?

She offered her help to Poe in the kitchen, but he insisted that she have a glass of wine and relax while he sliced crusty bread and put the last touches on the salad.  As they waited, she and Finn traded stories about work, and she was pleased to notice how content he seemed. 

“Things have been great!” he said.  “You know I wasn’t sure training new recruits for combat was the right job after . . . well, you know.  They thought maybe I had too much of the First Order left to not do more harm than good, but I think they’re coming around.”

“They are? Are you teaching them some things they didn’t know?” Rose teased.

Finn’s smile only grew. “I am, actually.  My commanding officer has even asked me to teach my techniques to the others before the next batch of recruits arrives.”

“That’s wonderful news!” she exclaimed.  As he returned her smile, she realized it was the most relaxed she had felt around him in months. 

She had been there for dinner before, but it had always felt a bit awkward.  She wondered if Poe knew about the kiss.  The matter never came up, and Poe was never anything but enthusiastically courteous to her, but that hadn’t been enough to dismiss her anxiety.  She wondered what had but pushed the idea from her mind.  She was there to relax, after all

They were well into the stew, a recipe that had come from Poe’s grandmother on Yavin 4, when the topic of Rose’s brought up her own cooking attempts.

“Well, what are you putting in the soup besides spices?” Poe asked.

She shrugged.  “Meat.  Sometimes some noodles.”

He nodded. “Try throwing some more vegetables in there.  See, you can’t really taste them, but this one has onions, celery, some fennel, and that’s before all the herbs and the spices.  You have to build the flavor with layers.  It tastes complicated, but it’s really easy.”

“It’s more expensive, too,” Finn added, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Poe heaved an exasperated sigh.  “Yeah, it costs a little more, but she’s only cooking for herself! She doesn’t have to make food for somebody who eats like a teenager.”  He turned to Rose.  “I’ll get home tomorrow and find he’s demolished the rest of this stew.  I won’t get another bite.”

Finn only shrugged in reply.  “What can I say.  You’re a good cook; I appreciate it.”

Rose laughed nervously, distracted by what Poe had said a moment earlier.  “Well, maybe, but . . . you know I’m not living alone anymore.”

Poe gave a dismissive flick of his wrist.  “No, but . . . well, Hugs is hardly going empty your fridge, is he? Even if he ate real food.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t know what, but something about what he said—maybe the way he said it--made her uncomfortable.  “How do you know he doesn’t?”

When she saw the concern in his eyes made her realize how suspicious she sounded, and she felt her cheeks warm.  His next words surprised her.

“I guess that’s my doing.  I talked to Marion, the new mechanic you’re working with.  She told me about the . . . ah, rations bar drive you sent the message about at work last week.  For charity.  And . . . well.  I know who your charity case is.”

She felt the skin prickle at the back of her neck at that.  She may have felt like she was doing charity work before, but that had changed now.  She didn’t know how to explain it, but the feeling that she needed to try won out.

“He doesn’t only eat ration bars now.  He eats fruit sometimes.  He drinks tea.”

“Oh, yeah.  Finn told me about Hux and his tea.” Poe looked over her head at his boyfriend, but Finn remained silent.  “I heard he always had a cup in his hand.  I expect he needed it, screaming his lungs out all day.”

“Well, he still needs his tarine tea, apparently.  Even without the screaming.”

Poe’s nose wrinkled at the mention of it.  “It’s disgusting stuff, tarine tea.  My grandfather used to drink it.  So bitter.”

“Oh, I know!” Rose cried, relieved that the subject had turned from Hux himself.  “I could only handle one sip, and then I had to wash the pot and steep some of mine.  It was so strong he’s forbidden to use my pot anymore.  I bought him a black one, so the color could match the flavor.  So now . . .”

She trailed off when Poe’s mouth fell open, wondering what she had said amiss.

“You had to buy him one? Did he . . .?”

“He didn’t ask me to,” she interjected quickly.  “I wanted to . . . I didn’t want him to use mine, but I just bought him a tin of the tea and it seemed . . .”

“Rose,” he said, serious.  “I know I said you’re not his jailer, but . . . you’re not his . . . his patron either.  You’re not getting paid for this.  You don’t need to spend your hard-earned money on him.”

Rose was at a loss for words.  She knew that Poe meant well, but still her cheeks burned with indignation. 

“What else have you bought him?”

She felt her jaw tighten as she looked at him.  A part of her wanted to tell him it was none of his business, that what she did or didn’t do for Hux was up to her.  But how could she say that without making things even more awkward that they so suddenly become? “Well, I wasn’t going to leave him in just two sets of prison clothes, was I? What better way could there be for him to be recognized?”

“Someone will eventually, you know,” Finn said softly, entering the conversation at last.  “You can’t just keep him in your apartment forever.”

Rose sighed.  “I know.” Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t forget that.  Hux was too diligent in reminding her every time she urged him to get some exercise.

“So, how long is this going to last?”

Her only answer was to blink at him.  How could she know that? But Finn’s expression was hard; he expected an answer.

“I don’t know.  Until he gets a job and . . .”

“Who’s going to work with him, Rose?” he cried, suddenly indignant.  “No one’s going to hire him; he’s a mass murderer! Are you going to be stuck with him forever?”

She could feel herself beginning to sweat under his scrutiny.  It wasn’t a surprise that he was curious, but she hadn’t expected this kind of interrogation.

“Look, Finn,” she began, desperate.  “I . . . appreciate that you’re concerned, but I’m fine.  It’s not the . . . the burden you think it is.”

He only shook his head.  “I don’t see how you can be so generous to him.  What could he ever do for you?”

For a moment she was quiet, thinking.  Maybe she couldn’t make him understand, but she had to make he effort.

“Look, when I was growing up on Hays Minor, my family was poor.  All the families I knew were poor, but my mother . . .”  She paused for a moment as a lump formed in her throat.  The memories always made her emotional.

“My mother shared everything we could spare.  If someone was hungry, she made them soup.  If they needed shelter, she would let them sleep by our fire.  She would give her own clothes to people who needed them because she could always make more.  And Hays Minor was full of poor people.”

She waited for Finn or Poe to speak, but they only watched her, wide-eyed.  She realized she had never said so much about her home before, and the thought made her self-conscious.  Well, it was too late to go back now.

“It never occurred to her to ask what anyone could do for her.  If they could help her as she had helped them, then she trusted them to do it.  It wasn’t about an exchange with her; she just loved to help people.  I have more now than she ever did.  I have a job that pays for all my needs and a place of my own and no one . . .” No, she couldn’t think about Paige; she’d never stop herself from crying then.

“I have more than I need.  I don’t mind sharing.  When Hux is ready, he’ll go.  That’s the end of it.”

To her relief, Poe smiled. “Well, if that’s enough for you, Rose . . .” He looked at Finn, who was still frowning, but made no reply.  “That’s enough for us.  I just hope it’s soon and . . . you think he’d tell you?”

She couldn’t deny that it was a concern.  “A few days ago, I thought he had left.  I got home from work and I couldn’t find him anywhere . . .”

Her face blanched even before Poe asked where he was. 

“Oh, he had just stepped out for minute for some fresh air.  But he came back; that’s the important thing. So . . . yeah.  I think he’d tell me.”

She sounded so flustered to her own ears that it came as a surprise when Poe only nodded.  The truth was that she had opened her bedroom door and seen his red hair sticking out of the top of her bedclothes where he had fallen asleep.  The relief she had felt then came back to her.  It was after their first time sleeping together, and she was worried that he hadn’t been comfortable.  At least that was one thing she didn’t have to worry about anymore.

Poe and Finn didn’t need to know that, though.  That would leave them with far more questions than answers, and she doubted she could answer any of them to their satisfaction.

“I just hope Hugs knows how lucky he is that you’re willing to put up with him,” Poe said with a grin.

This time, she couldn’t return it.  The irritation was back, and this time she understood why.  Poe calling Hux “Hugs” had always made her smile before, but now she couldn’t hear it without imagining how he would react.  His cheeks would color and he would scowl, the way he sometimes did when she teased him herself.

But that was different, she told herself.  Even if was hard to put her finger on the reason why.

* * *

The conversation moved on to lighter topics over dessert, but Rose still found herself distracted.  She kept replaying Finn and Poe’s questions and her answers in her head.  When they asked why she was so quiet, she could blame being tired without lying.  It was almost a relief to say goodbye for the night.

She opened the front door quietly, expecting to find that Hux had gone to bed. Just as she was considering how best to find her pajamas quietly in the dark bedroom so she could change into them in the ‘fresher, her eyes fell on the sofa.  Hux was lying there, dressed for bed and sound asleep, one of her books lying open on his sternum.  For a moment, she could only stare at him, puzzled.  Clearly it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be in her bed alone.  Had he waited up for her?

The thought both warmed and disturbed her; it was just the kind of thing Finn and Poe would never believe from her, but maybe it was true.  Hux could be considerate; he didn’t only care about himself.  Or perhaps they were right, and she was just being naïve.

One of his hands was draped over the spine of the book, and she wondered if she could move it without waking him.  She took hold of the bottom cover, gently sliding it towards her.  He shifted in his sleep as she pulled it free, and she watched his eyes intently. They remained shut, but she couldn’t help noticing how bright his red-gold lashes looked against his pale skin.  The circles under his eyes had lightened a lot; he was definitely sleeping better now than when he had first arrived.

She considered waking him, letting him know that she had gotten home, but then she felt foolish.  No, he had probably just fallen asleep reading; it had certainly happened to her before.  How annoyed would he be if she woke him to ask if he had waited up and the answer was no? 

Glancing over him one final time, she decided he looked comfortable enough, turned out the lamp, and went into the bedroom.


	8. Who's Armitage?

His days were so similar now that it sometimes took long minutes for him to remember what day of the week it was, but Hux found he didn’t mind.  Had he not constantly had his datapad before his eyes in his old life, he may well have forgotten then too. Indeed, it was a relief to not have to know.  As much as Rose’s books, and the ones she was now bringing him from her job, irritated him, it was nice to be able to think about problems in the abstract again.  He hadn’t gotten to do that in years.

He hadn’t had this much down time in years either.  Though he often promised himself he would, he placed the reward at the end of a deadline that was always moving.  After Starkiller is completed, after Ren is ousted.  He told himself he had to earn it first; it didn’t matter how badly he needed it.

This life he lived now was not what he had planned or wanted for himself, but if nothing else it had allowed him time to feel like a human again.  He could indulge in sleep, food, even company when he so chose.  It had taken having the latter again for him to realize how much he had missed it since . . .

He heard Rose open the door and didn’t even look up when he said, “This one deserves special recognition.  I have never seen so many factual errors just on one page before.  Is there a prize for erroneous engineering textbooks?”

“Oh, is it the new one?” Rose asked, only half paying attention as she passed him on her way to the kitchen.

“Yes.  And only two years in print.  It’s disgraceful.” He raised his voice just enough to be heard over the clatter as she got out their tea things.

“You know,” she called back.  “You could do this for a living.  You could fact check and edit textbooks.  Stop some of this stuff from being put into print.”

“That’s true,” he replied, almost more to himself than to her.  He had never wanted to be anything but an engineer, almost from the time he learned what an engineer was as a small boy.  But since he had to do something else now, there were worse options.

He marked his place and closed the book, getting up and stretching. Feeling a slight twinge, he reached to massage his lower back.  It was the one physical complaint he had developed since moving into the apartment.  For years, he had spent most of his day standing; even in his cell he had paced the floor until it drove the prison ward staff to distraction.  Now, the only exercise he got was when Rose insisted he accompany her for a walk.  It had been happening less frequently, much to his relief.  A sore back was a small price to pay for what it saved him in worry.

He went to stand by Rose just as the kettle went off, and she smiled up at him.  At first, she had been impressed by his ability to know exactly he would be needed, but now it was simply part of the ritual.

“You know, you wouldn’t even have to go to work to do that,” she pointed out.  You could do it from . . . from wherever you end up living.”

“I could,” he replied, even as he frowned at the thought.  She didn’t speak of his inevitable moving out often, but it always made him anxious when she did.  It wasn’t working that he minded; he would be glad to take on a new project immediately if he could.  But he had never lived alone before; even with his spacious quarters on star destroyers, he had had droids.  There had been other officers. 

She seemed to sense his tension.  “But, hey,” she began, slowly pouring the boiled water over the leaves in each pot, “if you work from home, you won’t have colleagues.  You won’t have subordinates.  You won’t have to deal with people at all. Well . . . only people you want to deal with.”

His lips relaxed into a smile.  “That does sound rather nice,” he had to admit.

The smile was gone when he heard Rose sigh.  She was not easily frustrated, and he had come to recognize that as a sign that she was about to say something she knew wouldn’t like.

“Speaking of . . . you dealing with people, I had a meeting today with General Organa.  She wants you to go and see her, at some point, to talk about next steps.”

Hux felt his heartrate quicken even before he could pour his tea.  “Next steps?”

Rose nodded, unusually solemn.  “But she said if you want to wait, it can.  There is no need to rush, she said.  She knows you’re still . . . settling in.”

Settling into what? Hux wanted to ask.  What good would settling do when he could be unsettled at her whim?

“She said it could wait? Wait for what?” He could hear the anxiety in his own voice, and from the way Rose’s brow furrowed, she could too.  But she only shrugged in response.

“I don’t know, Hux.  I think . . . maybe . . . it would be better to get it out of the way.  But she wanted me to tell you that there’s no pressure.”

It was all he could do not to scoff at that.  Rose respected the general to the point of veneration, he knew, but this was simply absurd.  Of course, there was pressure, and of course she expected immediate obedience.  He recalled what Snoke would do if he showed any reluctance at all to comply with his wishes.

But then, Snoke would never have suggested that he had any choice.  He had to admit that it made him curious.

“What happens . . .” he began, timid.  “What happens if I refuse.”

“Then I tell her you’d rather wait.”

She gestured with her cup to his still empty one on the counter.  “You’re not drinking, Hux.  Should I be worried about you?”

He sighed and reached for the pot, pouring his cup full.  Rose let him consider in silence as he blew on the steam. He would have to comply eventually; he was certain of that.

“I think,” he began finally, “We should set a date.  But . . . perhaps not too soon.”

Rose nodded.  “A couple of weeks, maybe?”

Hux frowned.  That sounded like a long time now, but he knew the time would pass quickly, as it always did when unpleasant events were approaching.

“Let’s say one week.  If it’s truly not an urgent matter, she should be content with that.”

“Alright,” Rose replied.  She started to speak again, then bit her lip, nervous.  “Do you want . .?”

In the silence, her anxiety was contagious.  Hux took a sip of his tea to stop himself from rushing her.  Was she going to offer to go with him? He didn’t know if he felt more annoyed or hopeful.

But it came to nothing.  “That’s fine.  I’ll tell her you’ll come in a week.  That shouldn’t be a problem,” she rambled.  After pouring the rest of her tea into her cup, she left Hux alone in the kitchen to think.

* * *

Telling General Organa had proven easier than she expected. Rose had thought she would ask for some explanation of why Hux wanted to wait, but she hadn’t.  She had simply provided a specific day and time, asked Rose enough questions to assure her that she was bearing his presence well, and let her go to work.  It was a relief; she wasn’t sure herself why Hux was so hesitant.  But at the same time, it made her all the more curious what the general wanted to talk to him about.

Her curiosity only grew when she arrived home that afternoon.  A blustery wind blew leaves around her feet and made her rush for the door faster than usual, clutching her jacket at her neck.  She really did need to think about getting a new one if it was this cold already.

Before she could reach the lock, though, the door opened from the inside.  Her eyes were already wide with surprise, but they grew even wider when she saw the man’s iron gray hair and his gray robes.

“Master Skywalker?”

She had met General Organa’s Jedi brother a few times, but she had never expected him to pay her a visit.

“Oh, here she is, Armitage!” he exclaimed.  “He wasn’t sure when you would be back, but I’m glad I didn’t miss you.  How are you, Rose?”

For a moment, she could only stare at him.  The realization that perhaps he had not come for her at all, and that Hux had let him in, seemed to override her manners.

“I’m . . . well enough.  What are . . . how are you?”

Luke smiled.  It was clear he knew what she had started to say but was too polite to mention it.

“Very well, thank you.  I was on my way home from a training session with Rey and thought I would stop in and see how Armitage was getting on.”

It wasn’t until he looked at Hux, who was now standing behind him and looking rather sheepish, that she noticed the cup in Luke’s hand.

“He made you tea?” she asked, disbelieving.   It was surprising enough that Hux had let a force user in and was even this calm about it, but had he socialized with him, too?

“Oops, I forgot!” he said, turning and handing the cup to Hux. “Thank you again for the tea, Armitage.  I don’t think I’ve had tarine tea since I was on Hoth. This is the first time I’ve been cold enough.”

Rose’s brow furrowed as she looked back and forth between them.  It was too much to take in: the unexpected visit, the tea-sharing, the name.

“Who’s Armitage?”

Hux’s cheeks flushed.  “Well, ah . . . that would be me.  That’s my name.”

Her mouth fell open. “What? No it’s not.”

His eyes darted to Luke, almost accusing, before they met hers again.  She noticed that a faint blush had appeared on his cheeks. “I’m afraid it is.”

Rose grinned. She might as well enjoy the insanity; there was no getting out of it. “Since when?” she asked, teasing now.  Glancing at Luke, she though she saw him smile a little too.

Hux cocked his head to the side, staring at her as though she had gone mad even as his blush darkened.  “Since thirty-five years ago.  When do you name babies on Hays Minor?”

She gave no answer to that; she just gave an amused chuckle and shook her head.

“Wow.  Armitage.  Who’d have known?” She supposed she had always known that Hux had a first name.  He had a father, after all.  Presumably a mother too, at some point.

“May I call you Armitage?” she asked as soon as the thought came into her head.

When Hux glanced at Luke, she realized that he was watching him too, awaiting his reply as eagerly as herself.  Under their combined gazes, his blush spread to Hux’s ears and he stared down into the cup in his hand.  It was enough to make her pity him.

“I mean, I won’t if you’d rather I didn’t, of course,” she added quickly.  “I just . . . well, it’s your name.”

He looked at her, thoughtful for a moment.  Then the corners of his mouth turned up just barely before he sighed and shrugged.

“I suppose I could bear that.  Since names are so important to you.”

“Yes!” she cried with glee.  It was a small thing, but it still felt like a victory.   She hoped he hadn’t only said it because of the Jedi master.

The man himself was definitely smiling when she looked at him again.

“Well, I suppose I should be on my way,” he said, pulling his hood tighter underneath his chin.  “As cold as it is I may need something more than tea when I get home.”

“It’s the wind,” Rose asserted, nodding in agreement.

“Indeed, that makes it even worse.  Now, you go in and have a cup of tea yourself.  Armitage, thanks again.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, another gust of wind blowing leaves across his cloak.  Rose looked up at Armitage.

“What was that about?”

He only shrugged again.  “Who knows? Nothing the Jedi do has ever made any sense to me.”


	9. This is Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some smuttiness in this chapter, but not Hux/Rose . . . not quite. Past tense smut. It's mostly in the second italicized section if you want to avoid it.
> 
> Many thanks to those who are sticking with this story; we're more than halfway through!

Skywalker was right. As the week wore on, the weather had been growing chillier by the day.  Hux had not felt it for himself except when Rose insisted that he get some exercise, which had been happening less often.  Perhaps she had come to believe him when he said he did plenty of walking around during the day, or maybe she simply didn’t want to go out herself.  If the increasing number of layers she wore to go work was any indication, she was particularly sensitive to the cold.

He had never minded it.  While other officers complained about the weather on Starkiller, he had been quite at home.  Besides, it wasn’t as though it was warm on a star destroyer; their uniforms included greatcoats for a reason.

Rose, however, did not possess a greatcoat, or much else in the way of appropriate weather attire.  So he when she woke him up in the middle of the night, her teeth chattering, he could understand how dire the situation was.

“Armitage!” she hissed.  “Armitage, wake up, it’s freezing!”

“What,” he murmured, drowsily.  He was still getting used to a name, and for a moment he wasn’t sure he was awake. “What happened?”

“Our heater is broken; that’s what happened.  Of all the nights for the stupid thing to break down,” she grumbled. “Can you really not feel it?”

To emphasize her point, she pulled the covers down, exposing his pajama covered shoulder.  Now he could.  The cold air was like ice against his bare neck, and he shivered.

“I can now! It’s warm under the covers, though.  What are you doing up?”

She answered with a huff of indignation. “Checking the heater!” she cried, loud enough to make Hux jump.

“Couldn’t you fix it?”

Even in the darkness, he could feel her dark eyes boring into him.  “It’s the middle of the night, Armitage.  I’m sure I can fix it, but I have to go to work, which means I have to sleep.”

Then sleep, Hux thought.  Why wake me? He decided not to anger her further, though.

“How can I help?”

Rose sighed.  “Well, you’re warm-blooded, aren’t you?”

Hux frowned in the darkness.  That had certainly been called into question in the past, by more than one person.  “Yes.”

“Then . . . can I cuddle you?”

Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her.  “Can you what?”

Another huff.  “I want to put my arms around you for the purpose of sharing whatever heat you may have in your tiny body.  Do you consent to that?”

Tiny body? She was one to talk when towered over her! He fumed in silence.

“Or at least to a compromise?” she asked.  Her tone softer now, placating.  “Let me put my back against yours?”

He considered that.  It had been a while since she had touched him, and that time . . . it hadn’t been bad.

“I think I could survive that,” he replied.  Even the cuddling, possibly.

She exhaled with relief, and he could feel her breath on his neck, making him shiver again.  No, back to back was definitely the way to start.

Rose climbed in next to him and rolled onto her side.  When she pressed against him, the back of her head rested between his shoulders and her rear against his lower back.  It was comfortable, and he felt warmer already.  If the same were true for her, she would be asleep again soon.

Unfortunately, it was not. A few minutes later, Rose was shifting again, pushing against him and trying to pull the covers more tightly around her.

“Urgh! I’m still freezing, Armitage.  Can I just . . . can one of us turn around or . . .”

Hux sighed and rolled over just at the same time that Rose did.  He opened his mouth to apologize, intending to turn his back to her again when she wrapped an arm around him just beneath his ribcage and lay her head on his chest.

“I’m sorry, is this . . . are you comfortable like this?” she asked.

She felt warm and soft against him.  Her hair smelled clean and lightly floral, the way the refresher smelled when he got in after she had left for work.

“This is fine,” he murmured, but her breath was already evening out and she made no reply.  She must be tired to fall asleep so quickly, he thought.  A peculiar warmth grew within him.  They had known each other for such a short time.  They weren’t even lovers, and yet she wanted to sleep in his arms.  What had her life been like to make her so trusting, he wondered.

As he lay awake, he couldn’t help thinking of another person who had trusted him.  Far too much, as it turned out.  He hadn’t been as soft as Rose, but his temper was milder.  They had a similar warmth in their brown eyes.  Hux knew he shouldn’t be thinking about him, that it could only end in pain.  But he was too tired, and it had been so long, and he couldn’t help himself.

_“Are you sure it’s alright?” he had asked as he nestled against him.  “When I leave in the morning, someone will see.  There is always someone in the hallway.”_

_“And who will they tattle to, Doph?” Hux had asked, cajoling.  “Do you think the Supreme Leader cares if I have someone to warm my bed at night?  If he asks, I’ll tell him I’m more productive when you’re with me.”_

_That earned him a mischievous grin.  “Well, you’re certainly more productive of something when I’m with you,” he teased as he brushed his fingertips down Hux’s belly, gently scratching at a speck of his release that he had missed when he had wiped him off earlier.  Hux had laughed at the tickling sensation before he reached for Dopheld’s hand, twining their fingers together._

_“Please stay.  I know I’ll sleep better if you’re with me.”_

_His eyes fluttered shut when Dopheld raised his hand to his lips and kissed each finger.  They had always been so sensitive to his touch, from the first time he had asked to remove Hux’s gloves._

_“Of course.”_

Rose shifted in her sleep, drawing Hux back to the present.  Her loose hair fell down into her face, apparently tickling her nose. Still fast asleep, she lifted her hand to push it back.  The strands remained where they were, her fingers succeeding only in crossing Hux’s chest next to her forehead and brushing over his nipple through the thin fabric of his undershirt.  

He inhaled sharply, feeling the nub harden.  He had almost forgotten how sensitive they were to another person’s touch, but his body remembered well enough.  Rose made another attempt to move her hair, again gaining purchase on nothing but Hux’s nipple.  He swore softly when he felt his cock twitch. “Kriff, not you, too,” he thought.

Clearly something had to be done.

He combed Rose’s hair out of her face with his fingers and gently shook her.

“Mmm . . . what?” she whined, still half asleep.  “I was asleep, why did you . . .”

“I, um . . .” Hux felt himself at a loss for words.  “I need you to roll over, please.  Let me lie behind you.”

She murmured with discontent again but did as he asked.  He put his arm around her and pressed his chest against her back.  His nipples were still hard, but at least she couldn’t touch them by accident this way, and he finally felt himself relax.  As he slid into a quiet sleep, he couldn’t resist thinking of Dopheld again.  The younger man had been less experienced than himself in many ways, but he had always managed to surprise Hux. 

_“Sir, you’re shaking,” Dopheld murmured against his neck.  Things were still new between them, Hux had never invited him into his bed before.  It was no surprise that the junior officer had accepted, but when he had stripped himself completely naked and asked Hux to do the same, well.  That was different._

_None of Hux’s lovers had asked him to undress in years, not since he had risen high enough in the ranks to not need them anymore.  His slender, fragile-looking body had never been much use for combat, but it did have some attractions.  For older, more powerful men at any rate.  Since But none of them had ever kissed his neck as gently as Lieutenant Mitaka did, or nibbled so lightly along his collarbone. For so long he had thought that the less he indulged in unnecessary pleasure, the better, but somehow his meek lieutenant had convinced him to be adventurous. And as much as it embarrassed him, Dopheld was right; he was practically vibrating at the sensation._

_“Are you cold?”_

_Hux half wondered if he were being facetious.  With Dopheld’s arms around his waist and their legs tangled together underneath the covers, he didn’t think had ever been warmer. Dopheld nuzzling at the center of his chest did not help with the shaking, though.  He had just opened his mouth to tell him so, but his breath caught in his throat when Dopheld turned his head to the side and kissed his nipple._

_He jumped, almost as much from shock as pleasure.  How could he be so sensitive there and not know about it? He was scarcely any more prepared when Dopheld kissed the other one.  This time, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping._

_“Do you like that, sir?”_

_He had liked Dopheld’s lips on his neck and the edges of his teeth, but this was something altogether different. The question sounded innocent enough, but Hux wasn’t sure he wouldn’t see him smirking if the room wasn’t completely dark.  He was glad that it was. It meant Dopheld couldn’t see how scarlet his cheeks had become._

_Without waiting for an answer, he took his nipple between his lips and lightly sucked it.  Hux gave a tiny cry at the jolt of pleasure it sent through him and his hips bucked.  He was already hard, but the attention made his cock throb between them. Dopheld circled the stiff nub with his tongue twice and sucked it again before he pulled his head away._

_Hux whined with disappointment, no longer caring how needy he sounded.  When Dopheld took the other one into his mouth, he buried his hands in his hair, gripping it hard.  His cock was leaking now, the pressure building inside him.  If it kept up at this pace . . . but surely not.  Surely it would take more than just this.  And then Dopheld’s fingers drifted back to the first nipple he had touched, still wet from his mouth. Hux groaned when he brushed his thumb over it, but when he took it between his thumb and forefinger and pinched, it was too much.  Hux panted and grasped at his back, grinding his aching cock against his belly.  After only a couple of thrusts, he buried his face in Dopheld’s hair and came._

Rose shifted in his arms, and his eyes flew open.  His pulse was racing, now with fear as well as arousal.  Everything about the dream had felt so real.  Well, everything but the orgasm.  His cock was still very hard and he could feel his slick tip sticking to his pajama pants.  It wasn’t the only thing he could feel either.

Rose’s ass was pressed firmly against his groin, and he was certain that she could feel it if she weren’t asleep.  Assuming she actually was asleep, of course.  The thought was enough to make him roll over, very slowly, as much to avoid further friction as to keep from waking Rose.

Even the pressure of the bedclothes while he was on his back made him bite his lip to keep from whining again.  Once on his other side he considered taking his cock out to lessen the pressure, but if he touched it even that much, he wasn’t sure he could stop.  That would certainly wake her.  Masturbating had always made him feel a little pathetic, and he was certainly not prepared to have an audience.

He breathed a sigh of frustration.  Moving it away from Rose had done nothing to help his erection and the ache was starting to settle in his balls.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so persistently hard, and the last time he had come . . . Well, that certainly wasn’t something he wanted to remember.

He wished he had more memories of Dopheld, though.  He deserved better than to be remembered only in moments of weakness, when another innocent party had innocently turned him on.  But he had deserved better than an untimely death, too, and that had not protected him.  The thought only made him feel more undeserving, even of the memories that had been left him.

It seemed like only seconds later when Rose was shaking him awake, but the sunlight streaming through the window let him know it had been much longer than that.  When he looked up at her, her eyes were so wide with concern that he wondered if he had woken her with another nightmare.  She had told him that it had happened once or twice since he started sharing her bed, but he hadn’t woken up and couldn’t remember.

“Are . . . are you alright?”

She sounded more than concerned.  Her voice was quiet, almost awed, as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

He remembered what he had been dreaming about as soon as he felt the wetness on his cheeks.

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, so softly he could barely hear himself.

“Nothing? Armitage, you’re . . . crying.”

She whispered the last word as though she was afraid someone else was listening, still staring at him like was an aberration.  His cheeks burned with shame; this was so much worse than being caught with his hand between his legs.

“I said it’s nothing!” he snapped.  “Leave me alone.” He lay down again with his back to her, but not before he caught the flash of anger that crossed her face.  He pulled the covers around his shoulders, bracing himself for the storm that was sure to follow.

It never came.  Instead he heard Rose sigh and the bed creak as she got up and left the room.


	10. I Want Him to Thrive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape mention in this chapter. Also brief description of a past rape. The description is in the italicized part.
> 
> Updates will be more sporadic going forward, but I still anticipate finishing by the end of the year.

Armitage stayed in the bedroom while Rose fixed the heater and was still there when she left for work.  She thought it best not to aggravate him further; who knew if she could stay calm if he lost his temper again?

Still, she was distracted from her assigned tasks with thinking about him.  They had come so far! They understood each other so much better than when he first arrived, or so she had thought.  Not well enough for him to trust her with something that made him feel human, apparently.

But she truly couldn’t imagine what had upset him so much.  Even when his screams had awakened her in the night weeks before, there had been so tears. She had seen him vulnerable before, but this was something completely different.  Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the sense that she had done something wrong, but nor could she think of anything she would have done differently.

It did not help her worries when General Organa summoned her.  She had already burned herself with the soldering iron twice, so it was probably safer if she took a break from work that day.  But she had a feeling her inability to concentrate would put her at even more of a disadvantage where she was going.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw not only General Organa waiting for her, but Master Luke as well.

“Rose!” he called, standing to greet her.  “It’s good to see you again so soon.”

For a moment, she could only stare at them.  A wave of embarrassment struck her, making her forget her manners.  How naïve of her to assume he had come to her apartment just for a friendly chat with Armitage.

“Master Skywalker,” she said with a nod.  “General.”

“Have a seat, Rose,” Leia said cordially, indicating a chair facing the other two.

Rose obeyed, still watching them both carefully.  She realized how anxious she must look when Leia smiled and said.  “You can relax Rose, you aren’t in trouble.”

She let her arms settle on the rests and crossed her legs, trying to look calm even as her heart raced.  After Luke’s visit, she had decided it was best not to question Armitage about it too much.  Now, she wished she had.

“I hope you don’t mind my brother joining us,” Leia began.  “After he spoke with Armitage the other day, he had a few insights that I thought you would like to hear about.”

Rose’s eyes went wide at her use of the name.  She would have thought that using it herself would lessen the shock, but that wasn’t the case.  Instead, it felt as though his secret was being spread.

She only grew more uncomfortable when Leia asked, “Is that what you’re calling him now? Armitage?”

Rose sighed.  “He said it was fine.  And he . . . doesn’t seem to mind.”

The siblings shared a knowing smile.  “That’s very good,” Luke said brightly, turning back to her.  “I called him that mostly to see how he would react.”

Rose’s brow furrowed with confusion.  “Really?”

Luke nodded, but it was Leia who spoke.  “When he was imprisoned here, he insisted on being called Hux. When I called him ‘Armitage,’ he was quite put out.”

That didn’t surprise her.  Armitage had been put out by a lot of things while he was in prison.  Given what he had thought at the time, in retrospect, she couldn’t blame him much.

Leia turned to her brother.  “Tell her how he was when he let you in.”

“Well,” he began.  “He did look at me a bit funny when I used his first name, but then he invited me in.  I suppose he could have just been surprised to see me.  You certainly were.”

His glance in her direction was friendly, if a little mischievous.  She couldn’t deny it, so she nodded.

“But . . . he was polite,” Rose ventured, unsure whether she was asking a question or making an observation.  “He shared his tarine tea with you.”

She could see in the way his nose wrinkled that Luke felt the same way about the beverage that she did.

“Yes, he did.  He seemed to think the other tea was off limits to him, unfortunately.”

“But you took it?”

Luke shrugged.  “Well, he was being so polite.  Awkwardly, but he was trying.  I didn’t want him to think I was rude for turning it down.  Imperials are funny about things like that sometimes.”

Imperials? Rose thought to herself.  But then, she supposed the First Order generation had been brought up by Imperials, and Armitage was certainly no exception.

“He must think I’m the rudest person in the galaxy,” she said. “I can’t abide the stuff.”

Luke smiled.  “Oh, I don’t think he thinks that at all.”

She narrowed her eyes.  She knew the Jedi master wasn’t just giving his opinion on what anyone would observe.  He could sense things about people, which must have made it all the more difficult for Armitage to let him in.  It was so invasive, but she couldn’t help her curiosity.

“He said you’ve been very kind to him, but I think it’s more than just that.  I think he trusts you.”

Rose leaned forward in her chair.  She knew she shouldn’t ask, but when would she ever get such an opportunity again? “What did you . . . sense from him?”

His smile widened.  “He didn’t want to let me in. I knew he wouldn’t even before I arrived, but he did, and not because he was afraid of what I would do.  He was thinking about what you would do if you were there.”

“He’s afraid of me?” she interjected.  He had hidden it well if that were the case, but she supposed he did have reasons.

Luke shook his head.  “No, he’s not afraid.  He wanted to do what would please you.  And he didn’t really relax until you got home.  Until then, he was nervous. Twitchy.  He almost dropped the tea pot a couple of times.”

Rose frowned.  It was easy to imagine how Armitage would be.  He was used to spending his days alone, and then out of the blue he was faced with the challenge of entertaining a Jedi master who, as it turned out, had come to test him.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.  Heat rushed to her face as the twins glanced at each other; she hadn’t meant to sound so brusque.  “I mean . . . how do you think I can help?”

It was Leia who answered her.  “The thing is this.  I think that I may have found a job for him.  There’s a project I would like to have underway this winter to put us in better shape for next year, and it needs a head engineer.”

Rose’s eyes widened.  It was just what she had been hoping for.  It was just what he would want, but something didn’t’ feel right about it.  It was too easy.

Leia watched her for a moment before continuing.

“I had hoped an opportunity like this would come along.  Ever since the decision was made to not execute him, I’ve tried to come up with a way to put his talents to use.  I want him to thrive, doing something that can help us all if he can We all know that he’s a brilliant engineer, but the trouble is how we know it.”

Rose nodded.  “You thought no one would work with him?”

“Yes. And I still think so, were weapons involved.  Or any of my current engineers, who refuse to have anything to do with him in any capacity.” She pressed her lips into a tight line that left Rose wondering how often this had come up.  “I am willing to work with anyone who can help bring this war to an end,” Leia had said after Armitage had been taken to his cell.  Now that it was over, there were clearly many who did not feel the same.

“Is that what you want to meet with him about?” Rose asked.

“Yes, but first I wanted to make sure he was up to it.  Because none of my engineers will work with him, I will have to find more.  We have sent out inquiries, and there are some fresh graduates who are apparently willing to work with anyone if it means they get to come to the capital.  But therein lies the trouble.  They’re young.  They’re inexperienced.”

Rose thought she understood.  “So, you wanted to make sure that he can be . . . nice?”

The question drew surprised laughter from both Leia and Luke.

“I would never expect Armitage Hux to be nice,” Leia answered.  “But I needed to feel confident that he will not make all of them cry every day.  Besides, I’m not sure he would want to take the job anyway.”

Rose was shaking her head before she had even finished speaking.  “Oh no, he’ll want to do it.  I think he’s getting bored waiting for me to come home from work every day.”

“So, you’ll tell him, then?” Leia asked.

The question came as a shock and for a moment Rose was reduced to staring again.  “You want me to tell him?”

“I think he may feel less worried if he hears it from you,” Luke interjected. “You’re his friend.”

With a swiftness that nearly overwhelmed her, Rose remembered what had happened that morning.  Would Armitage still be angry with her when she got home? Would giving him what should be the best news he’d had in months make him willing to look past whatever she had done? Or would it only make him more anxious?

Whatever his reaction was, she would have to deal with it soon.

Rose sighed.  At least she wasn’t expected back at work that day.  She could just get it over with.

“I’ll do my best,” she promised.

* * *

Rose arrived home almost buzzing with nerves.  She hadn’t been so nervous to talk to Armitage since the first week he had been with her.  It was hard to believe that had been such a short time ago.

He replied to her hello from the sofa when she entered the apartment, but she noticed that only her pot was by the kettle, and he did not come to the kitchen when the water boiled.

Still angry, then, she decided. She steeled herself she prepared her cup and took it into the living room. 

When Armitage heard her, he put his book down and looked up at her, his expression grim.  She had to wondered if he was just mirroring hers. 

“Listen,” she began.  “I . . . I had another talk with General Organa today.  She wants you to come in tomorrow afternoon.  She’s sending guards to collect you, so you’ll be completely safe.”

He didn’t look comforted by that.  The color drained from his face and he looked away.  “Did . . . did she way?” he asked softly.  “Why she wants to meet . . . earlier than we discussed?”

Rose felt a stab of sympathy as she looked at him.  She had known he wouldn’t refuse, but she had thought—had hoped, anyway—that at least by now he would believe that the General would stand by her promise not to execute him.  But he seemed to anticipate something almost as bad.

“It’s good news, actually,” she ventured.  “She’ll tell you more about it herself, of course, but she has a job for you to do.”

That at least made him look up at her, and she decided to take it as encouragement. “You’ve said you wanted to be busy.  This can give you some independence.”

It was the wrong word, and she knew it as soon as it had left her mouth.  Armitage sighed and dropped his head again.

“Did she say where I am to go? Or . . .” He let the sentence hang there unfinished until Rose could bear the silence no longer.

“There’s no rush,” she assured him.  “I mean . . . she didn’t tell me much, but I didn’t get the sense that you would have to leave the planet or even the city.  She didn’t . . . mention moving.”

Armitage gave her a tiny smile.  “I suppose we both knew I wouldn’t be here forever.  I’m sure you’ll be glad to have your place to yourself again.”

She knew it would better to say nothing in response, to let him think he was right.  It would be easier for both of them if it were, but she couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“Won’t you?”

He watched her for a moment, then sighed again.  “I have no place, not really.  My place is wherever General Organa wants me to be.  I’m at her disposal.”

Rose didn’t know what to make of that.  There was a time when it was just what she wanted to hear from him, an acknowledgement that he was only alive because the general was far more compassionate than he deserved.  Now, it only made her sad.

“She won’t make you to do anything dangerous,” she said.  “She wouldn’t . . . she says she wants you to thrive.”

Armitage’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.  “She said that?”

Rose nodded.  His face softened; now he only looked bewildered.  Perhaps it was the first time anyone had ever said that concerning him, and just a day earlier she would have asked.  Now, though . . .

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea?” she asked. 

He indicated the cup on the table next to him.  “No, thank you.  I’ve already had a few today.”

So, what’s one more? Rose thought.  He had told her that sometimes he had six while she was at work, but it had never stopped him from having a cup with her before.  But if she asked him now, there was no knowing that she would like the answer. 

* * *

The hours until bedtime seemed to pass like years to Hux.  He was so deep in thought that he stared at a page for long minutes, not reading a word of it, only turning to a new one when he caught himself.  What did that woman want? What had made her go from being so cavalier about the meeting to this urgency?  What did she want him to do? The knowledge that he could not refuse was even less comforting than it used to be.

Rose left him to himself that evening, though he could tell each time he saw her that she was worried about him.  The silence did nothing to help with his anxiety, though he supposed telling her about it would not help matters, especially given his reaction when she had tried to help him that morning.

Still, it tugged at his heart when she asked if he was coming to bed. Her voice was so tender that he had almost agreed, but he knew that he would toss and turn all night, and then she . . .

“I’m sorry about this morning,” she blurted out before he could reply. “I didn’t mean to . . . I just didn’t know why you were . . .?”

He felt blood rush to his cheeks at the memory.  She had been so shocked by his tears, and he hadn’t known how to handle it.  He still didn’t.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he replied.  “I’m sorry that I shouted at you.  I just . . . I think I should sleep here tonight.  The heat is working again, thanks to you.  And you know I haven’t had a nightmare in a while.”

She narrowed her eyes at that, and it made him wonder.  He hadn’t had one he could remember since Rose has invited him into her bed, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t had any.  Perhaps she knew more than she had told him. After looking at him for a long moment, she shook her head gravely.  “I wish I could understand you,” she murmured. 

It took a moment for her to get up, as though she was expecting him to explain.  But he had nothing to say.  When he heard the bedroom door shut behind her, he exhaled, covering his face with his hands.  As much as he wanted to, there was nothing he could say to make her understand.  It was better when no one had asked him such questions, when no one had cared for him and he . . .

The thought was enough to make his eyes well up again, and he rubbed them hard with his palms.  He had more pressing worries than how he felt about Rose.  Tomorrow, he would have to give an account of himself, to remind General Organa of what he had to offer without reminding her of the means he had chosen to prove himself.  It was in the past, and she wanted to move forward.  She had told him so when she first asked for his help, though he hadn’t believed her at the time.

The more he tried to think of the general, though, the more her face lost its stern, honest aspect and became sullen, vindictive, and cruel.  By the time he fell asleep, it was only her son’s face that he saw.

_“Did you really think you could trick me, General?” he asked.  The calm in his voice was terrifying.  He could cope with Ren’s temper, that was familiar.  He had used it against him in the past; indeed, that had been his most effective strategy.  This, though.  He had no idea how to respond._

_“Supreme Leader, I . . .” He pulled against the invisible restraints around his wrists that held them against his bed.  They were as tight as the hand around his throat had been, but at least they left him free to speak.  He would feel more in control if he could see Ren’s face, but perhaps that was the point._

_“Did you think I wouldn’t see through your schemes?” Ren continued as though he hadn’t heard him.  “I thought the first time would be enough, but clearly I was mistaken.  When will you learn to shut up and take your punishment?_

_The words hit Hux like a punch in the stomach.  The voice was different, but the effect was exactly the same.  He wondered when Ren had pulled that from his memory.  Or perhaps it was just the sort of thing men who did these kinds of things said.  He was trying to not to remember the last time his father had said it to him when he felt Ren’s real hands pulling at his waistband._

_“No!”_

_Resistance had proven futile the first time, and he decided to try to conserve his strength.  But this wasn’t like the first time.  Again, he was stretched to the point of tearing, but even so the pain was not enough to stop the other unwanted response.  The last time, though, Ren had kept his hands to himself._

_“Stop” he cried when he felt one wrap around him.  He could feel tears burning down his cheeks and when he cried out again he could hear his voice breaking._

_“Please stop,” proved no more effective.  Ren’s hand was rough, his strokes brutal, but it wasn’t enough to stop the inevitable._

_He was sobbing by the time it was over, as much from shame as pain._

_“Now, General, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”_

* * *

He was still crying when Rose awakened him.

“Armitage,” she said softly when his eyes flitted open, “are you alright?”

Her eyes were full of concern, like before, but her voice was calmer.  It took a moment for him to remember what had happened that morning, and he felt another wave of embarrassment wash over him even as he nodded.

Before he could respond, her arms were around him, pulling him against her as she reached down.  He slumped against her shoulder, arms by his sides, fighting back the sob that rose in his throat.

Releasing him, she took hold of his slender arm just above the elbow and pulled, helping him to stand.  “Come on,” she said “Let’s go to bed.”

Hux hesitated.  He wanted to go, but it was too easy.  Things couldn’t just go back the way they were. “I . . . “ he began, standing still with his eyes on the floor.  “I’m not sure I can go back to sleep after . . .”

Before he could finish, Rose took hold of his hand.  “Then we’ll talk,” she offered.

He studied her face, looking for any trace of the horror he had seen earlier, but there was none.  She only looked worried and tired. He gave a humorless chuckle.  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.  This isn’t something you want to hear about.”

Rose bit her lip, as there was something she wanted to ask but she was afraid to speak. 

“Armitage,” she began tentatively. “When you have these nightmares . . . are they about Kylo Ren?”

Now it was his eyes that went wide with shock. How could she possibly know that?

He couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped his lips when reached up to his face, gently wiping away the wetness underneath one eye with the pad of her thumb.

“I want to ask you something.” She bit her lip again and paused, weighing her words.  “And if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.  I’ll never mention it again.”

He felt his heart quicken even as he ever so slightly leaned against her hand. He felt afraid, but unable to resist her.

“Ask me,” he murmured.

“Did . . . Did he rape you?”

His eyes widened even more and he almost staggered back, staring at her. Soon his pulse was pounding and he could feel cold sweat breaking in his armpits.  He knew Rose wasn’t force-sensitive; she couldn’t read his mind.  But how else could she possibly know that?

He opened his mouth to ask her, but her expression stopped him.  She heaved a sigh so deep her shoulders rose and dropped and looked away.  When she met his gaze again, there was something so tender in her eyes, almost vulnerable.

“Yes,” he said so suddenly that it seemed almost involuntary.  His eyes dropped to the floor and the skin prickled at the back of his neck. He felt his fingernails dig into his palms as waited for her to speak, only relaxing when she reached for his right hand.

He glanced up at her, still struggling to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Thank you for telling me.” Her voice was so soft and small, but when she tugged on his hand he allowed himself to be led.  “Now, come on.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   


	11. Lieutenant Mitaka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more discussion of rape in this chapter. This are generally lighter from here on out.

“He had been Supreme Leader for two months the first time it happened.”

“It happened more than once?” Rose asked.

Hux nodded, even though she couldn’t see him in the dark.  He was relieved that she had let him turn the lights off; he had feared that an interrogation in the bright lights, and that would have been more than he could bear.  But another part of him was worried that she would fall asleep, and he would be left alone with his thoughts again.

“Twice.  The first time I was so shocked I couldn’t have done anything even if he wasn’t . . . it made no sense.  He had never been attracted to me.”

Rose moved her hand across the line of his shoulders and then down between them.  It was easier to talk when she was touching him, letting him know that she was awake and listening.  It felt really good too, soothing to the tension in his back.

“But it wasn’t about that?”

Hux shook his head.  “No.  He wanted to put me in my place.” His tone was clipped with disgust.  “I knew he would hurt me no matter what I did, so I always tried to provoke him where others could see it. I knew he wouldn’t care if he injured me, but I was the commanding officer, and I knew if my officers saw him abusing me, eventually it would unsettle them.  They would see him for the deranged madman he was.”

Rose’s hand stilled, and for a moment he froze as well, wondering if he had told her too much. Was she shocked by how calculating he had been? But almost as soon as the thought occurred, her hand was moving again.

“How did he find out?” she asked

He answered with a bitter bark of laughter.  “How do bloody force users find out anything? I was usually able to keep him out of my mind, but one day I questioned an order and he threw me into a wall so hard I got a concussion.  Two admirals were there to see it, so it worked, but I suppose I was a little disoriented before I blacked out.  When I was discharged from medbay that night, he was waiting for me in my chambers.”

Rose moved her hand and he felt her forehead press between his shoulder blades.  She wrapped an arm around him.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Armitage,” she murmured against his back.

More tears filled his eyes and he failed to bite back a sniffle.  He wondered if Rose was getting as annoyed as he was with his crying.

“I’m sorry, I . . .”

She pulled him closer. “Shhh.  It’s alright.  Do you . . . do you want to tell me what the second time was like?”

Hux inhaled deeply.  Why not? How much worse could things get now that she knew?

“I was less surprised the second, at least . . . well, it didn’t take as long for me to realize what he was going to do.  As soon as he forced my door open I tried to prepare myself.  I tried to make my mind go blank, but then . . . after he started, he . . .” Hux felt a tear run down the length of his nose.

“It’s okay,” Rose said as if she could sense it.  “You don’t have to . . .”

“He put his hand . . . on me and . . . I didn’t want it, but . . .”

“I know, sweetie.”

Hux froze at the endearment, pushing himself up just enough to turn his head in her direction.  No one in their right mind would call him that.  Had she forgotten who she was talking to? But when she remained silent, waiting for him to finish, his indignation evaporated and he turned around again.  Tonight, he supposed he should be glad if she had.

“That was . . . much worse than the first time,” he went on. “Turning someone’s body against them.  I . . . didn’t think it was possible to do that.” Another tear fell, but to his relief it was the last.

She moved the hand that was resting on his sternum and reached to take his.  He heard her breath hitch a little, and it crossed his mind that perhaps she was overcome too, but he quickly dismissed it as ridiculous.  She was just being kind, as always.

“What happened then?” she asked.

Hux turned his hand, wrapping it around hers so he could squeeze it back. “I was still healing when you and Finn and Dameron . . . got me.”

It was the first time he had described it in that way.  Before, “abducted” had seemed the right word, but it hardly seemed appropriate now. 

He half expected her to say that if they had rescued him from that, he should be thankful, but all she did was raise her hand to the bony edge of his shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m glad,” she said simply.

 “Me too.”

For a moment, all was quiet, and her hand slid down the length of his arm to take his hand again.

“Armitage?”

“Yes?”

“When you were crying this morning . . . was it about this?”

His eyes fell shut.  The tears were drying on his cheeks, and the last thing he wanted was to shed more.  He hoped she would be content with a simple answer.

“No.  That was about someone else.”

“Someone?” she asked, emphasizing the last syllable with surprise. 

Hux sighed.  His eyelids felt so heavy; his whole body did.

“Rose?”

“Mmmm?”

“Can . . . can it wait for the morning?”

He felt her chin against his shoulder as she pressed a kiss to it though his shirt.

“Of course.  Sleep well.”

He was asleep before he could reply.

* * *

Rose got no sleep that night.  Her mind was still reeling from Armitage’s confession long after his breath had evened out and he was lying still beside her.  Of course, she had known that Kylo Ren was violent and cruel.  If she hadn’t known it before, she certainly did when Poe returned from his brief captivity still worn down from his torture.  But then again, General Hux had been those things too.  Rape was different.  Ren had still wanted Hux to be able to do his job, but . . . she could still hardly fathom it.  It had only occurred to her a moment she had blurted out the question.  She had thought, I’ll just assume the worst and then whatever it actually was will be easier for him to talk about.

Except she had been right, and he had looked at her as though she had torn the idea from his mind just as Ren had.

But then, he had told her the truth.  That was the most unbelievable thing of all.

Still, she was sure she was the only person he had told, but that didn’t mean only she knew.  Had Luke pulled that detail from his mind while Armitage thought they were only having tea and a chat? Had General Organa when she interrogated him after he was captured? 

He shifted next to her, murmuring something she couldn’t make out.  She stretched out her hand to rub between his shoulder blades and he was still again.  She was still amazed at how much her touch could calm him, even though she had learned it almost as soon as they started sleeping together.  He still had nightmares, but when she felt him moving next to her she had only to rub his back and he would be calm again.  He was not the first person she had slept with who had nightmares.  It had been true of her lovers even back on Hays Minor.  She’d had more than a few bad dreams of her own, but she didn’t think hers had ever been as vocal as Armitage’s were.

She had wondered if putting her arms around him would work even better, but she had never dared try it before.  The fear that she would fall asleep like that, and he would wake up with her arm across his chest had put her off, but he had been so vulnerable earlier that it seemed the only thing to do.  She did it again, resting her cheek against the fleshy part of his shoulder.

It was more comfortable than she had expected.  Armitage was thin, but the boniest parts of him—his ribs and elbows, were easy enough to avoid.  Certain that he was asleep, she slid her hand over the edge of his shoulder and down his arm, drawing it away from his ribs when he twitched.  So, he was ticklish there.  She wondered where else he might be: his knees? His feet? Had anyone ever found that out before? 

Her hand came to rest on his belly.  It was softer than she expected, not enough to protrude noticeably, but enough to cup with her hand. She jumped when his hand brushed against her.  For a moment she froze, but his breathing hadn’t changed and he didn’t move his hand again, just held it in place against hers as though he didn’t want her to move it.

It was hard to believe he enjoyed being touched so much, especially given what he had been through.  He must have had some experience with some kind of intimacy before: something good. Her mind wandered back to the other person he had spoken of.  Could it have been a friend? His lover, maybe?

Rose considered that for a while; the one seemed as unlikely as the other.  It couldn’t have been easy for a general in the First Order to have either, but she supposed it was possible.  Perhaps officers had some regard for each other, even if they did have none for anyone else. Whoever this person had been, Armitage cared enough to cry over them. 

She was still thinking about that when her alarm went off.  Her eyes went wide and she stared at it as it continued to beep, forgetting for a few seconds that she had to turn it off herself.  Once she had, she collapsed back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.  She was exhausted, a deep ache settled behind her eyelids, but she wasn’t sleepy.  It was the worst possible condition for her to work in; what good could a mechanic be on only a couple hours of sleep? If she had even had that much.

How was it that she had stayed wide awake thinking while Armitage slept, especially as anxious as he was about the meeting with Leia?  Rose looked down at him, still sleeping soundly on his side with both forearms tucked under his pillow.  Their conversation must have tired him out completely for him to sleep through her alarm.  That, or he had already been exhausted by prospect of a meeting with his rapist’s mother.

Rose raised her hand to her mouth at the realization.  Of course, how could she have been so stupid? Of course that terrified him.  It had occurred even to her that the general could easily have seen that memory in his mind, that she would know his darkest secret without his consent.  And now he was going to have to meet with her, wondering what she knew the whole time.

And then the solution seemed simple.

* * *

Rose had already poured out the pot of tea she had made for Armitage and was on her second one when he finally got up.  Perhaps he would have been fine with tarine tea steeped for over an hour, but she couldn’t reconcile her conscience to it.  What if his stomach wasn’t that strong after all.

He was rubbing his eyes when he came out of the bedroom, but when he saw her his arms dropped to his sides.

“You’re still here,” he observed.  “Is everything alright?”

Rose smiled, waving away his concern.  “It’s fine.  I called in sick.  Go make yourself some tea; I filled the kettle up.”

His brow furrowed with confusion, but he didn’t question her further.  He vanished into the kitchen.

Rose’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t had breakfast yet. She considered going in while he was making his tea but decided against it.  He was used to being alone in the morning; she didn’t want to crowd him.  Besides, he needed time to think about what he had told her the night before.  To decide whether he regretted it or not.

He did look a little sheepish when he returned with his steaming cup.

“You’re not feeling unwell, are you?” he asked, still puzzled.

Rose shook her head.  “No, just tired.  Marion is covering for me; she wanted the extra hours anyway.”

He looked at her for moment, then dropped his eyes with a sigh and sat down on the sofa next to her.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have kept you up so late.”

Rose reached towards him and put her hand on his arm.  Armitage jumped, almost spilling his tea, and she took it back.

“I, um . . . you didn’t.  I mean . . . it’s not your fault,” she said, suddenly nervous herself.  As much as she had touched him the night before, she hadn’t thought he would mind. But apparently things were different in the cold light of morning.

After a few sips of tea, he broke the silence.  “I hope I didn’t upset you with my . . . with what I said last night.”

Perhaps she should have talked to him sooner if he was only going to regret it more as he woke up, Rose thought.

“What happened to you,” she began, slowly, “is upsetting.  But it’s not your fault. None of that was your fault.  I’m glad you told me.”

Armitage watched her through narrowed eyes. “Why?”

She shrugged, again searching for words.  It was Master Skywalker’s that came to her.

“Because you’re my friend.  I want to help you.  If it helps you to tell me something upsetting, then I want to hear it.”

He looked away at her words but made no reply.  She decided to take it as a good sign; at least he hadn’t contradicted her.  Might as well be a little bold.

“Armitage?”

He looked at her again, cautious if a little less suspicious, and she continued.

“Who were you crying about yesterday morning? You told me to ask again in the morning.” At least, she thought that was what he had said.  She definitely remembered asking and not getting an answer.

Armitage looked down into his teacup.  “I did, didn’t I?”

She nodded, relieved that at least he remembered it to, and waited for him to continue.  Instead, he lifted his cup to his lips again and drained it.  When he put it down again, he murmured something she could barely hear.

“I’m sorry?”

Armitage sighed.  “Lieutenant Mitaka.”

Well, that told her exactly nothing.  “And who was . . . that?”

He didn’t even look up.  Rose switched tactics.  “What happened to . . .?”

“He died,” Armitage said abruptly.  He lifted his cup to his lips again, scowling when he found it still empty.

Well, at least that tells me something, Rose thought, only to realize a second later that it really didn’t.

“You . . . had feelings for him?” It was a ridiculous question given how he had woken up from that dream, but she wanted to be sure.

Armitage looked up at her, his head cocked slightly to the side.  She waited for him to speak, but he only dropped his eyes again.

“How . . . how did he die?” She felt tasteless asking, but he didn’t’ seem to want to answer any of her other questions.

This time, he didn’t even look up.  “He was killed when Starkiller Base was destroyed.  I wasn’t there.  I left to report to report to Supreme Leader Snoke, and I was going to go back for him, but . . .”

Rose’s eyes widened, but she didn’t dare urge him.  She assumed Armitage’s . . . friend? lover? . . .  had died in some kind of battle. Perhaps he had even been killed by Kylo Ren.  She hadn’t anticipated this.

“The supreme leader ordered me to find Ren, so I did.  I saved Ren instead of going back to Dopheld.”

He blamed himself; how could he not? She blamed herself for Paige sometimes, as irrational as it was.  Paige was doing her job, just as the Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka was.  But there was nothing she could have done to help Paige.  The First Order had killed her, and Rose had done her part to destroy it.  Armitage could have no such comfort.  What Dopheld died doing, he had been doing for him.  And yet Armitage had chosen instead to save the man who would eventually rape him. How did he live with that?

It came as no surprise when a sob rose from his throat, despite his attempt to muffle it with his hand.  She didn’t expect him to speak; what could he say?

“It was the wrong choice.  It didn’t matter what the Supreme Leader said; without my weapon, I was of no use to him anyway.  I should’ve left Ren to bleed out in the snow.  I should have gone back.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed.  That was what she had been thinking she would have done, what he should have done.  But to hear him say so, that was a surprise.  She hadn’t though the man who built Starkiller Base would have any regrets other than that it had been destroyed.  But then, Armitage Hux had certainly surprised her before.

“You couldn’t have saved him,” she said.  “I mean, the planet would have been falling to pieces by then.  Even if you had gotten to him, it would have been too late to leave.”

Her words were meant to be comforting, but Armitage only looked confused.  “Do you think I don’t know that?”

There was no anger; his voice was soft.  Disturbingly soft.  “I don’t propose that I could have saved him, but I could . . . I could have . . .”

“You could have died with him,” Rose finished, finally understanding.

Armitage nodded.  “I had no business surviving Starkiller’s destruction.  No officer should survive a project that was his sole responsibility.  And . . . and I should have died while there was still someone who . . .”

He didn’t finish, and Rose didn’t expect him to.  It was had for him to talk about his feelings, especially about people.  She supposed he hadn’t had much practice with it.

But did he really think so little of himself? She supposed he was right about how the Order saw him; it had little enough regard for any human life.  But he had helped end the war, however reluctantly.  If he had gone down with the base, perhaps it would still be going on.

And I never would have never gotten to know him.

The thought puzzled her and she set it aside for later.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

Armitage glanced at her, still perplexed.  “For what?”

“I’m sorry your boyfriend died.”

It was obvious, though she wasn’t exactly sure why.  It seemed unlikely that a friend had gotten him accustomed to cuddling; though she supposed he had cuddled with her plenty.

His frown deepened.  “I don’t know if I would call him my . . .”

Rose put her hand on his arm again, pleased that this time he didn’t flinch.  “The word isn’t important, Armitage.  What’s important is that you cared for him, and he cared for you, and I’m sorry you lost him.  I know what it’s like to lose someone.”

His face softened before he looked away.  “Your parents?”

“My sister. She was the pilot who destroyed your dreadnought.”

His eyes met hers again, wide with surprise.  “Did she?”

“Yeah, she did.  It, um, seemed like an awkward thing to bring up before.” Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure why she was bringing Paige up now.

“I suppose,” he replied, timid. “You must be proud of her.”

“I miss her, Armitage.” She smiled, wistful.  “Sure, everyone in the Resistance saw her as a hero, and that was nice, I guess. Not as nice as having her here.  To be honest, you could have kept your dreadnought if it meant I could have my sister back.”

He watched her carefully, choosing his words.  As she waited, Rose wondered what it would be like to have had so little human connection.  He could feel grief himself; that was clear.  But could he empathize with someone else’s?

The corners of lips turned up every so slightly.  “I would go along with that.”

Rose gave his arm a squeeze and drew her hand back.  It wasn’t much, but it was progress. “Well, I’m going to make breakfast.  Do you want more tea or . . .?”

“Do I have time? Did General Organa say when she would send for me?”

Rose smiled.  “Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you.  I, um, I took the liberty of sending her a message to reschedule.  You seemed so anxious about it last night that I . . .”

Armitage’s lips were pressed together, his expression unreadable.  Perhaps it had been a mistake to cancel his meeting without asking him.

“It will still take place, though, eventually.  It’s inevitable.”

She shrugged.  “Yes, she wants to meet with you tomorrow afternoon.  But I thought . . . I don’t know.  I thought you might like some more time to prepare.”

His shoulders dropped as he exhaled.  “I don’t know to prepare for that.” He looked at her with another barely-there smile.  “Thank you, though. That is a relief.”

“No problem,” she said, rising. She was halfway to the kitchen when he called her.

“Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“If neither of us have to be anywhere, what are we going to do today?”

She considered for a moment.  “Well, as cold as it’s been, I thought I might make us some soup. If you want to get dressed, you can come with me to the store.”


	12. It Can't Hurt You

Every other time Rose had suggested they go outside, that had been all that happened.  They would stick to the sidewalk. Rose would point out various features of the town and comment on the weather, and Hux would ignore most of it because he was cautiously watching everyone who passed by for signs of recognition.  “Relax, Armitage,” she would always tell him, but he never could.

At first, he wanted to refuse her invitation to go shopping.  The idea of going to a location where his movement would be impeded by something other than Rose’s shorter legs worried him.  Other grocery shoppers could look at him at their leisure; they would have more time to connect his face to their memories if they had ever seen him before.

“You could wear your new coat,” Rose had cooed.  That had done it. 

The overcoat was not a color Hux would have chosen for himself; the wool was a light fawn color that he deemed far closer to the Resistance end of the uniform spectrum.  She’s trying to assimilate me, he had thought. When he had mentioned the color after he first opened the box, though, she had simply shrugged.  “You looked so harsh in all that black. I thought this would look nicer with your complexion.”

Hux was skeptical of that, and he knew his face had showed it at the time.  And yet a peculiar warmth had spread through him at her words.  He had never seen anything that could be called “nice” in his complexion.  It was pale, unhealthy, and what was worse, it showed his emotions far too readily.  He was sure his face had been flushed with color even as he had thanked her.

When he slipped it on, he was struck again by how well it fit, snug enough to keep him warm, but easy to move in. It had felt good to wearing a garment that had some structure to it again. He knew the coat couldn’t have been cheap, and the knowledge that Rose had spent so much of her wages to get him something nice had left him grateful and embarrassed in equal parts.  How could he turn down a chance to wear it?

Before going into the grocery store, Rose suggested a cup of tea at shop nearby.  He scanned the menu, but all the options seemed foreign to him.  Shaking her head with amusement, Rose ordered him the strongest black tea, but even steeping for early ten minutes produced what Hux could only describe as brown water.  He finally set it aside in disgust.

“What did you get?” he asked.

Grinning, Rose handed him her mug.  “It’s a spiced tea. Smell it.”  Hux took it, somewhat awkwardly.  No one had ever offered him their drink for inspection.  It was so far away from his nose when he inhaled that he could only pick up the barest whiff of it.  It smelled more like sugar to him than anything.

“It’s really good,” she urged.  “Have a sip.”

He raised his eyebrows at that.  “Are you sure? Isn’t that . . .” He struggled to come up with words she wouldn’t find offensive.  Sharing a drink seemed so intimate.

“Armitage, we’re sleeping together,” she said abruptly, startling him from his hesitation.  “If I had anything contagious, you’ve probably got it already,” she deadpanned, blinking.  “Go ahead and try the tea if you want to.”

Hux took the tiniest sip he could and still recoiled from taste, scrunching his face up in a way that made Rose snort with laughter.

Sweetness assaulted his palate, overwhelming the flavors of the milk and spices.  He seriously doubted there was any tea in the concoction at all.  As soon as Rose had taken it back from him he reached for the weak tea in an attempt to wash it out and had to drink the mug almost empty before the taste was gone.

“Sorry,” Rose said when she finally got her laughter under control.  “It is pretty sweet.”

Hux’s face contorted again at the memory. “That is beyond sweet.  Why did you give me that?”

She shrugged in reply.  “Well, I didn’t know.  I know you didn’t go in for sweets in the Order, but I thought you might like it.  Finn loves these drinks.  They’re his favorite.”

Hux drained the last of his tea.  “Finn is an aberration,” he replied.  Rose’s eyes widened, and he realized what he had said.

“That’s not what . . . I did not mean . . .” His attempt to explain trailed off when she chortled again.

“It’s fine, Armitage.  I think he’d probably take it as a compliment that you find him aberrant. Especially since you used his name.”

Hux felt his cheeks warm at the realization.  He didn’t think he’d called the renegade stormtrooper anything at all since he had lived with Rose, but he had certainly heard her call him by that name often enough.  Somehow, his significance had changed from his being the only stormtrooper ever to successfully leave his father’s program by means other than death to his being one of Rose’s closest friends.  It seemed impossible, but it had taken hardly any time at all.

“Didn’t you have sugar even as a kid?”

The question startled him again; he hadn’t really thought about his childhood in years.  It was best not to, he’d found.

“I think . . . not,” he answered after some reflection.  “My father was the director of the academy I went to.  Sweets were strictly contraband, but I know he used to give them to other children when they did something that pleased him.”

Rose looked confused at that.  “Other children?”  He dropped his eyes and made no reply; perhaps he had said too much already.  When he looked at her again, her lips were into a hard, angry line, her brow contracting.  “He did what?”

Hux fidgeted with his empty mug.  Yes, he had definitely said too much.  “Never mind, let’s . . . didn’t you say you needed to get some things?”

For a moment, she only stared him with the same expression, not wanting to let the subject go.  Then she sighed, resigned, and took another sip of her tea. “You’re right.  We have a lot to get.  Just let me finish this and we’ll be on our way.”

At first, Hux had worried that there would be nothing for him to do in the store.  He would just follow Rose around, looming awkwardly behind her.  But it turned out that she did need his help.

“It’s that spice on the top shelf, she instructed, standing at his elbow as he reached over his head.”

He scoffed, as thought there were only one.  There were dozens of different spices, each with labels so small he had to lower them to eye level before putting them back.

“They’re dried green leaves, like tea,” she pointed out. “I think maybe if you move this way . . .”

As she spoke, she put her hand on Hux’s hip, gently directing him.  He inhaled sharply at the unexpected touch, but thankfully she didn’t notice.

“What about that one there? Hand me that.”

Hux reached for the jar she was pointing to, and her hand dropped in anticipation of taking it.

“I think I understand why you wanted me here now.  After all that talk of how good it would be to get me outside.”

She rolled her eyes in mock indignation.  “Yes, that’s it, Armitage.  I just needed a human stepladder.  This was my plot all along.”

She took the jar from him and read the label.

“Yes!” she cried.  “And that’s the last thing on our list. Thank you.”

Before he could move away, her hand was on him again, this time his lower back.  He went rigid with nerves.  The touch was only meant to be friendly, he knew, but because of her height it was lower than it should be.  Even through his jacket and shirt and the belt of his trousers, he was keenly aware that her small hand was just above his ass, and it awakened a spark of excitement within him.

Luckily, it didn’t last.  “Come on,” she said, removing her hand.  “Let’s get home before it gets any colder out there.”

* * *

Hux was bewildered at first when Rose said she would need his help in the kitchen.  It was the first time she had ever asked for it, and he couldn’t imagine what he could possibly do.  And for the first few minutes, he was right.  He watched as Rose put the vegetables in the refrigerator and a few other items in the pantry.  She took the chicken out of its bag last of all, but instead of refrigerating it as it had been in the store, she placed it in the sink and began to unwrap it.

“Hey, Armitage, turn the faucet on, would you? The cool side, and not too fast.”

She thanked him as he slowly turned the knob.  “Now, get some paper towels.  A lot of them.”

A lot? How many was that? Was it five or six or was it half the roll?  He cautiously reached for it and pulled until Rose looked in his direction and cried out. 

“That’s plenty! It’s only one chicken, for kriff’s sake! We don’t need quite all of those.”

Chastened, Hux rerolled until Rose nodded, shaking and pressing her lips together to contain her laughter.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she said as she took them from him and set to drying off the chicken. 

The name still made Hux frown, but he was less shocked than he had been the night before.  He had been called things besides his name or rank before, of course, but it was clear that none of them had ever been meant as friendly.  But when Rose called him “sweetie,” well.  He could tolerate it, however inaccurate.

When the chicken was dry and the paper towels thrown in the trash, Rose rolled up her sleeves.  “Okay, Armitage, I need you to get down the thyme and sage.  We’re going to put it on the chicken with the rosemary.”

“We?” he replied, his eyebrows rising.  He had only understood half of the words she just said.  The rosemary was the one he had gotten down for her at the market, but the others were as foreign to him as if they were in another language.

“Yeah, this is what I wanted you to help me with.  It’s hard to put the herbs on when I’ve got raw chicken all over my hands, so you’re going to shake the herbs on and I’m going to rub them in.”

The idea sounded absolutely bizarre to Hux, but she seemed to know what she was talking about.  He reached up into the cabinet to retrieve the herbs, watching Rose drizzle a small amount of oil onto the chicken out of the corner of her eye.  Rose had only a small fraction of the bottles that had been at the market, but it still took him several tries to locate both of the ones she needed.  When he looked over at Rose, his lips parted with surprise.

She was massaging the oil onto the chicken as though it were a person, stretching out the wings to cover them before turning it onto its front to evenly distribute it. Her small hands were shiny with oil, their warm color standing out against the translucent pink of the chicken skin.  He was so mesmerized that he didn’t hear her say his name at first.

“Armitage?” she repeated.  “Are you alright? You look stunned.”

His cheeks warmed.  “I’m sorry.  I’ve just never seen anyone do that before.”

“I’m not surprised,” Rose teased.  “Real food is a new world for you, isn’t it?”

Something was certainly new.  “I suppose it is,” he replied.

“Well, hopefully it will seem a little less strange to you after this.  I’ve just started doing these kinds of things myself, so I need all the help I can get.”

Hux narrowed his eyes at that; she certainly didn’t seem inexperienced.

“Listen, open that container and sprinkle some salt on this chicken, would you?  You washed your hands, right?”

“I did.  You told me to.” He almost reminded her that she had been standing near where she was now when she had done it. 

Instead, he stayed quiet and did as she asked while she rubbed in the salt.

“Okay, now the . . . the sage, I guess.”

“Does it matter what order you put them in?”

She looked up at him, puzzled. “I don’t suppose it does? Who knows?”

Hux opened the bottle and, with some instruction from Rose, shook it over the chicken, sending down a flurry of dull green flakes.  It did look a bit like tea, he supposed.  Enough to make him wary of eating it.  But the bottle was not full, so Rose had clearly used it before without suffering any ill effects.

Her rhythm absorbed his attention once again.  She rubbed the chicken so gently, but firmly and thoroughly too, getting the green flakes all over her hands as well as the bird.  When she reached a leg and wrapped her hand around it, his breath caught in his throat.  It seemed a waste that she spent so much time touching something that wasn’t even able to appreciate it.

“Now the thyme,” she said.

She was rubbing the chicken breast when she spoke, and he tried to comply without getting any on her hands.  It was no use, though.

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled up at him. “It’s fine.  It’s a lot less messy this way than when I do it by myself.  I might need just a little more oil, though.”

The oil, too, got more on her hands than on the chicken.  Hux did find his hand shaking a bit as he poured.

“There we go,” she said.  “That’s much better.”

He nearly dropped the bottle when she slipped two fingers underneath the skin over the breast to work the oil and herbs in, moving closer to watch her repeat the motion on the other side.  The new proximity allowed him to smell the savory aroma of the herbs along with something else, sweet and a bit sharp.  It took a moment for him to place it.  It was the fragrance Rose put on in the morning before she left for work.  He supposed she had put some on in the morning before they left, and now it was mixing with the sent of herbs and a light perspiration from being in the warm kitchen and putting so much effort into seasoning the chicken. He wanted to move closer, to breathe in her scent more deeply.

“Let’s put some in here,” she said, making him jump.  She lifted the chicken by its legs, indicating the cavity between them.  It was enough to distract him from his musing for the moment and he drizzled some oil inside before putting the cap on once again.  Her hand disappeared inside the bird, coating it with the oil, and when she withdrew it, it was covered up to her wrist.  It looked so messy; how could it be so immensely attractive at the same time?  He wondered what it would feel like to touch it, all slippery and soft.  What would it feel like to have her touch him with it?

Rose lay the chicken on its back again and coated the legs with the thyme, stretching each out with her hand, rubbing the soft skin over the hard bones until they bounced back against the carcass.  Hux’s heart quickened and he felt his breath grow labored. Shame bloomed on his cheeks when he realized he was getting hard.

Just as soon as he stepped away, she asked for the rosemary.  His hands were shaking so badly that it took several minutes for him to peel off the wrapping from the top of the container.  Rose’s concerned scrutiny did not help matters.  When the lid was finally off, he tried to shake the leaves on quickly, but they were so much longer and coarser than the other herbs that it proved impossible.

“Move a little closer.  They’re getting everywhere,” she urged.

He tried stretching his arm out further so he didn’t have to move his body nearer to her, but that only made his control worse.

“Get in there,” she said, a touch exasperated.  “The chicken’s dead, Armitage. It can’t hurt you!”

As she spoke, she reached around him and put her hand on his lower back again.  Heat surged along his skin from the base of his spine to his scalp and his cock gave a twitch.  He stepped closer to escape the pressure and shook the bottle frantically over the chicken. 

“Okay, I think that will do. You can go back to safety,” she teased, grinning.  Hux breathed a sigh of relief; she hadn’t noticed.

“What can I do now?” He turned his back to her completely, facing the refrigerator.

Rose considered a moment as she put the chicken in the oven.  “Hmmm.  It’s a little early to start on the vegetables, but I guess you can cut up the onion if you like.”

She washed her hands and wiped down the surfaces she had touched with disinfectant.  When she was finished, she reached under the cabinet to pull out a cutting board and then to the pantry for a white vegetable covered with thin, paper-y skin.  Hux kept his distance until she had placed the items on a counter. Logically, he knew she had no reason to look at his groin, but the past few minutes had been so ludicrous he didn’t know what to expect.

“Now’s your chance to show off your knife skills,” she chirped, handing him her chef’s knife.  He turned the blade to examine it.  Since his academy days he had always been good with a knife, but not like this.  He had never used one on vegetables before, but at least he had enough sense to not cut himself with it.  Hopefully.

Rose turned her attention to another task, and he glanced down.  The bulge in his trousers was less prominent than it had felt a moment before, so perhaps he was out of danger.  Almost as soon as he had halved and peeled the onion, he could fell tears gathering in his eyes.  Not again, he groaned. 

He tried to ignore the burning sensation, but the more he cut the stronger it became.  The fumes from the onion were so potent he couldn’t understand how anyone could bring themselves to eat them.  No sooner had he dried his eyes with the back of his hand than his nose started to run.  He knew that he couldn’t sniff without attracting Rose’s attention; she was only a couple of feet away with her back to him, peeling long, pointy orange vegetables into the trash with her other knife.  She had seen him cry more than enough the previous evening, and she already thought him afraid of raw chicken.  There was only so much humiliation he could bear.

But it was that or have his nose drip into the onion he had already diced, and that would be even worse.  He sniffed so loudly that he thought she could have heard him from the living room.  She looked up.

“Armitage, are you okay.  Are the onions getting to you?”

He blinked, fresh tears falling down his cheeks.  “The onions?”

She took a step closer to him, pushing him gently back from the cutting board with her hand on his shoulder.  At least the worst had past, he thought; being reduced to tears by a vegetable had completely gotten rid of his erection.

“I’m sorry.  I should’ve let you slice the carrots.  I forgot how badly onions affect some people.”

Hux wiped his eyes again; the stinging was subsiding now that he wasn’t standing over them anymore.  “Not you, though?”

“No, I’m lucky.  They never bothered me even when my mom cooked when I was a child.  Paige couldn’t be in the same room with them, though.”

“Did Paige cook with you?” he asked, cautious.  It felt strange to bring up her sister; he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

Rose laughed.  “Paige? Cook? Oh no.  No, I think you’ve done more cooking today that Paige did her in her whole life.  It just wasn’t something she was interested in.  That’s one thing, at least, that I maybe had an advantage at.”

Hux frowned.  Was she jealous of Paige?  He had always supposed that was what having a sibling was like.  Always vying for the parents’ attention, each trying to demonstrate that they were smarter, more attractive, better than the other.  Like he and the other children at the academy had been, only siblings  looked more alike.

He decided not to press the matter further.  “Would you like for me to chop the carrots while you do this?”

Rose brushed her bangs back and looked up at him.  Her eyes were completely dry and he felt a twinge of jealousy himself.

“That would great,” she said, unphased that he had changed the subject.  “And that’s all I’ll need.  It should take about an hour to cook, and then we can eat it!”

* * *

Hux looked into the steaming bowl, bewildered.  Everything he could remember eating fit neatly into one of two categories: solid or liquid.  It certainly smelled good, much better than its individual components had, and he enjoyed the warmth of the steam on his face.  He just wasn’t sure how to eat it.

Rose gave him a clue when she lifted her spoon to her lips and blew on the piece of chicken in it.

“I think we did pretty well,” she said after some consideration.  “It could use a little more salt, but I’d rather have too little than make it too salty.  We can always add more when we reheat it tomorrow.”

She sounded nonchalant, but she was watching him so intently that Hux knew she wouldn’t relax until he had tried it.  Cautiously, he spooned up some of the liquid and put it in his mouth.

It was like nothing he had ever tasted, both savory and sweet at the time.  He tried again, this time getting a small piece of carrot in his spoon.  That bite was sweeter than the first, but he found that he liked it.  A piece of chicken provided a different texture, one he decided would take some getting used to.  Rose had been so anxious about that that she had called him into the kitchen to try some before she put it in the soup.

“I know you’re not used to eating meat,” she had explained.  “At least, not unadulterated.  I want to make sure you like it before I put it in the soup.”

He hadn’t much cared for her choice of words.  “Unadulterated” made it sound as though he had been fed poorly when he was with the First Order, even though all meals were designed for optimal nutrition.  When he had tasted the chicken, though, it was quite foreign to his palate.  He preferred it in the soup.

“It is good,” he admitted, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile when Rose grinned at him.

*** * ***

He had wanted more soup after the first bowl but decided to pace himself.  He had always had trouble with any changes in his diet and didn’t want to embarrass himself or offend Rose with an upset stomach.  But there was no such result; he woke up just as refreshed as he had after sleeping in Rose’s arms the previous night.

This morning, their positions were reversed, and Hux found himself lying with Rose’s head nestled under his chin and his arm draped loosely across her waist.

He sensed that Rose was waking up when she yawned and stretched underneath his arm.  In anticipation of her getting up, he rolled onto his back, but instead she turned over in his direction, laying her head on his shoulder and throwing an arm across his sternum.  He froze, his breath catching in his throat as he remembered the last time she had held him like this.  But as long as she didn’t move any more, he would be fine.  She was only touching him because she was cold anyway. 

That gave him an idea.  Reaching down for the covers, which had been pulled down to his chest by Rose’s movements.  He raised his other shoulder, lowering his arm just enough to grab the blanket and pull it up underneath Rose’s chin.  It had the opposite of the desired effect.  Rose clung to him even tighter, now hauling herself on top of him to lay her head on his chest.  He could feel his heart beating faster and heat pooling in his groin, but it wasn’t until she slid her leg in between his thighs that he realized he was getting hard again.

Panic was setting in.  Hux closed his eyes and tried to keep his breaths even, but it was no use.  Like his complexion, his cock had never been under his control.  He was sure his blush would give him away even if the hot press of him against her didn’t, but if she could just stay asleep . . .

No sooner did he have the thought than her eyes flitted open and she peered up at him.

“Oh.  Good morning,” she murmured, lifting her head to meet his gaze.

“Comfortable?” he asked with a smirk.  If he could just keep her attention on his face . . .

Her cheeks darkened as she noted their proximity.  “I’m sorry I . . . um . . . about the,” she mumbled sleepily.  When she started to get up, she shifted her weight to the knee between his legs, driving it up against the crotch of his pajama pants.  The movement was enough to make Hux suck in a breath and bite his lip.

“Oh.”

When his eyes opened he saw her staring down to where their bodies were touching.  Even though he knew she couldn’t see, the thought sent a rush of heat through him.  She tried to get off of him quickly, her coordination was still so far behind that she ended up rubbing against him again.  His back arched and the wicked thing between his legs throbbed.

“M’sorry,” he murmured, heat rushing to his face.

Rose laughed it off, even though she was still blushing herself.  “It’s fine, Armitage.  It’s not your fault, it’s just . . . it’s early.”

Hux smiled, relieved.  If she thought it was just a regular morning erection, he would let her.

He sat up, draping the covers over his lap in a heap as Rose stood and put on her robe.

“Well, it’s the big day,” she chirped.  “I hope you’re ready.”

Hux groaned and rubbed his eyes at the reminder.  Mercifully, he had forgotten that his reprieve had only been temporary.  “As ready as I can be, probably,” he grumbled.  Rose having taken the day off to be with him suddenly seemed absurd.  The best possible result of the meeting would be that he would accept the job the general offered, and he would be on his way.  Only now he would miss her even more.

“Oh, come on, Armitage,” she crooned.  “It won’t be so bad.  You know dreading it won’t make it any easier. You know, she’s surprised you pleasantly before.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that.  He supposed it was a pleasant surprise that she hadn’t had him executed, even if he hadn’t necessarily seen it that way at the time.

“If you say so,” he assented, getting up on the other side of the bed to search for his own robe.  If he was to have only one more morning with Rose, he didn’t want to spend it arguing.


	13. Have You Tried Kissing Her?

Leia Organa could hardly believe her eyes.  The man was the same, unquestionably, but his look and demeanor were completely different.  And she was certain Rose had chosen that coat for him.

The last time she had seen him, he had been in dull, baggy prison garments, but his silence had been haughty and even smug, though he was at her mercy.  Now he was neat and well rested, dressed in clothing tailored to fit his body as it was, not to humiliate him or make his size look more imposing. And he looked scared to death of her.

“Do you accept the position, Armitage?”

His eyes widened with surprise at the use of his first name, but there was none of the rage she had seen the first time she had used it.

“Of course, General.”

It pleased her that he didn’t hesitate to use her title even though she had stripped him of his.

“The binder I gave you includes blueprints for a similar greenhouse, much smaller of course. The graduates are excited to start work.  I’ve met all of the ones who have arrived, but more are scheduled to arrive this coming week.”

“From where did you say?”

“Oh, they’re from all over the galaxy.  Of course, none of them are from the best engineering program, as you know, but their credentials are impressive nonetheless.”

She waited to see how he would respond to that.  The best program had been on Hosnian Prime; he had robbed those students of the change to ever live up to their potential.

He actually had the decency to blush at that, dropping his eyes to the floor.  “I know.  But there are other programs.  After all, I didn’t go there either.”

Leia nodded.  “Good, then that’s settled.  Look over those plans and report back here on Monday to meet your team.  I expect to see the first draft of your plans for the new greenhouse by then, but for now you can go home and tell Rose the good news.”

His blush darkened at the mention of Rose’s name.  Intriguing.  She had been suspicious when Luke told her how much Rose meant to Hux, but perhaps there was something to it.

She arched an eyebrow.  “Don’t you think she’ll be pleased?”

He was already rising in his chair to leave, but at her question he sat down about, watching her warily.

“Oh, yes.  I am sure she will be.  It will be a relief to her.”

“But not to you?” He certainly didn’t look relieved.  He had looked as though his cushion was stuffed with nails from the moment he had sat down.

“I . . .” Long seconds passed as he struggled with his words.  Leia probed into his mind, too gently for him to feel.  At least, he showed no signs of resistance.  Underneath his anxiety, she warmth connected with the idea of Rose.  A very particular kind of warmth.

“Oh,” she exclaimed softly, eyebrows raising.  “You’re . . . you’re attracted to her.”

Hux’s eyes widened and his cheeks suffused with color.  For a moment, he looked as outraged as he had when she had called him Armitage for the first time. Then he heaved a sigh and looked away, defeated.

“Yes.”

Leia’s eyes fell shut and she shook her head.  Why hadn’t she minded her own business and let the man leave? Why did she care? The thought of someone like Hux having romantic feelings struck her as bizarre.  Evidently, though, it struck him that way, too. She might as well press on.

“And you don’t think she feels the same?” Rose was certainly defensive of him, Leia recalled.  That meant something, though she couldn’t be sure what.

Hux looked up at her, scandalized once more.  “Well, of course not!” But even as he spoke, he seemed to grow less certain.  “How could she be?”

Leia could only shrug at that.  “Who knows? You can’t talk about attraction as though it is something rational. But now that you have work here, you should be thinking about your future.  You don’t have to live with her for her to be part of your life, you know.”

He opened his mouth, as though about to contradict her, but then it fell shut again and he sat there, pensive.

As Leia looked at him, she felt anger begin to simmer within her, though she wasn’t sure it was directed against Hux or herself.  Probably both.  She had given him a job, against the advice of almost all her supporters, and it wasn’t so they could sit in her conference room and discuss matters of his heart as though he were her son.

That was it, she realized.  Why her rational decision to spare Hux and use his talents instead of giving him the execution he probably deserved.  She had ordered the destruction of ship that had her own son on because of information this man had given.  Though she had made the choice, it would not have been available to her without Hux’s cooperation.  And now he was alive, making a fresh start, and Ben was . . .

“How do I know if she . . .” Hux began, interrupting her train of thought.  She glared at him until he withered, looking so pitiful that Leia felt her anger with him ebb away.

He rose to his feet again, giving her a respectful nod.  “General, thank you for your time.” He put the binder under his arm and was halfway to the door when she spoke.

“Have you tried kissing her?”

Hux turned on his heel so fast that she thought he was angry at first, but his face had blanched.  He looked terrified; she bit back a smile.

“Kiss her?” He said it as though making sure he had heard her correctly.

“Yes, Armitage.  Sometimes you have to kiss another person to let them know how you feel and to understand how they feel about you.” To her ears, it sounded incredibly condescending.  Who could reach the age Hux was and not know that?

But he looked at her as though she had gone mad, as though the thought had never crossed his mind.  The idiot.

“You’re dismissed, Armitage.  Remember, I expect a full set of blueprints by Monday.”

He nodded again, then fled.

Once he was Leia rose and opened the cabinet in which she kept her bottle of Corellian whiskey.  Though she drank rarely, she had always kept a bottle around.  The main reason was that it reminded her of Han, and that made her smile.  The other reason was days like this.

With two fingers of the amber liquid in her glass, she started to put the bottle back, but on second thought she left it on the counter and got out another glass to put beside it.  Luke would be back from working with Rey soon, and she knew that when she told him this story, he would need a drink too.

* * *

He spent all afternoon and most of the evening examining the plans in the binder the general had given him.  The structure of the greenhouse seemed simple, certainly in comparison to his last project, but he wasn’t sure it would seem familiar to any of the students. Would any of them have ever had any access to solar power before?

He decided it would be safer to assume they had not. Therefore, it was up to him to anticipate what questions they might have and have answers ready for them. As he considered his explanations, he was distracted by the sounds coming from the kitchen.  Rose had said they were having the rest of the chicken soup they had made before, but from the time she had returned from work, he suspected that she had been to the market.  After their success with the soup, he was tempted to leave his work and find out what new delights she had for him, but he stayed where he was.  She had become unusually quiet after she asked about his meeting with the general; perhaps she needed some time to herself.

And even if she didn’t, who knew whether some guileless food item might leave him absurdly aroused.  The kitchen no longer seemed as safe as it had been.

Rose had indeed been to the market, and she had made a salad with different kinds of lettuces—some flat and some curly—and a vinaigrette so sharp it had hurt Hux’s tongue at first.  He decided he liked it; the mixture of bitterness and tartness vaguely reminded him of tarine tea, though he didn’t mention that to Rose.

There was also a dark loaf of bread and three different kinds of cheese: a crumbly white one, a smooth yellow one, and a white wedge that seemed to have blue veins running through it.  Despite its strange appearance, it proved to be his favorite.  And then there was the soup.

“I had to make sure there was a least one thing you would eat,” Rose said with a grin as she ladled soup into his bowl.

“It’s all delicious,” he replied, mostly sincere.  The bread was too sweet for his taste, but from the large slice she took it was clear that it was her favorite.  He didn’t want to insult the one item she had clearly gotten for herself

“Well, you got some good news today.  We had to celebrate.”

He tried to return her smile, but he was far from confident.  Considering that she couldn’t quite meet his gaze when she said it, he wasn’t sure she was either.

She had said,  “you got some good news.” Wasn’t it good news for her that she was getting her apartment, not to mention her bed, back?

He supposed she would miss his warmth, if nothing else.  He didn’t like to think of her shivering under the covers after she got in alone, waiting for her body heat to warm the sheets.  Not to mention that he would be forced to do the same thing himself.

Watching her eat, he thought of what General Organa had said.  It wasn’t as though he would be leaving the city.  He could still visit her.  Perhaps he could stay over sometimes; friends did that, didn’t they?

When Rose raised her eyes, he looked away, his cheeks warming.  He remembered the other thing she had said, and it seemed even more ludicrous with Rose in the room.

And yet she had said it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.  Perhaps in the Republic it was, and the Resistance had certainly been far less formal.  But still, one didn’t just kiss people.

And yet he couldn’t shake the thought, no matter how he tried, and the approach of bed time only made him more nervous.

Rose had said very little about his leaving during dinner; her comments and questions had been about his plans for the project and the graduates he would be working with.  So it surprised him a little when he came back from changing into his pajamas in the refresher to find her sitting with her back against the headboard and a pensive expression on her face.

“You know,” she began, “It will be different from what you’re used to.  You can leave your team at the end of the day and go home.  It’s not like you’re stuck on the same ship with them like when you were with the First Order.”

“I suppose,” he agreed, climbing into bed next to her.  “It’s not as though we had to see each other apart from work.” He considered a moment. “Or mealtimes.”

Rose scoffed at that.  “Please, like you had mealtimes in the First Order.  Like you didn’t just eat over your consoles while you worked.”

“I . . . I didn’t eat at my console,” he replied, his lips curving into a smile when Rose rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“My mistake.  You probably didn’t even stand still to eat.”

“At least that’s a skill I’ve learned since then.” He could feel his shoulders starting to relax.  Nothing to worry about, just a little banter before they fell asleep, as usual.  “I can even eat sitting down now.”

“I know.” Her eyes crinkled with mischief.  “It’s so much better that way, especially when you’re not alone.”

His eyes met hers, and this time he couldn’t make himself look away.  “That’s true.”

It was true, and he probably would never have learned it if she hadn’t taken him in.

The lines around her eyes vanished and she frowned.  “Armitage? What’s the matter?”

He dropped his eyes, feeling trapped. As the silence grew awkward he tried to think of something to say, but all the words that came to him mind seemed so dangerous.

“It’s nothing . . . I just . . .”

She reached for his hand as it lay on the bed between them, and he let her wrap her little fingers around his.

“What is it? You can tell me.”

Her voice was so soft, but all the more irresistible for that.  When he glanced at her, a strand of long hair next to her bangs caught his eye, and his fingers itched to brush it back.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmured.

He didn’t dare.  It was too intimate to touch her like that, with no invitation.  How had he found it so easy to touch her face the first time he saw her? Had he lost his mind?

For a moment, Rose only looked more bewildered.  Hux waited, his heart hammering in his chest.  As many times as he had thought it, it was hard to believe he hadn’t said it before.

Rose opened her mouth as though to speak.  He was watching her lips so intently that he didn’t see her hand move, and he jumped when he felt it, warm and soft against his cheek.

And then she moved it to his neck, gently pulling him down closer to her as she pressed a kiss to his lips.

It was just the tiniest peck to begin with, but it was enough to make Hux’s eyes bulge with shock.  That couldn’t happen, and yet it had.

Glancing up at him for confirmation, Rose hesitated for only a moment before she kissed him again.  Pleasure sparked along his skin where it touched hers. He was so happy that it was all he could do to keep himself from smiling against her lips.  She wanted him! She _was_ attracted to him. Who cared how little sense it made?

It only took a moment for him to grow self-conscious, though.  They were lying down, Hux on his back and Rose lying half on top of him.  He cupped her neck with one hand, loving the way her soft straight hair felt against the backs of his knuckles, but his other hand rested awkwardly on her back.  His lips gave way to her teasing tongue and she murmured approval. Should he kiss her back more aggressively, even though it felt so good to let her take control?  It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, and even then he had been far more apt to use his mouth for other things.

He tilted his head to the side and her lips brushed against his cheek instead.  Her brow knitted with confusion until he glanced down at her neck and then met her eyes again.  She lowered her head to kiss just beneath his jawline and he hummed with pleasure.

In spite of his awkwardness, she had to know how excited he was. He panted when she gave him the chance to breath again and gasped when left kisses down the side of his neck.  Her soft body felt so different against his like this, but so good.   She wasn’t quite close enough to feel how hard he was getting, but who knew what she would do next?  Since she was kissing him, perhaps she wouldn’t mind.  He didn’t know how he would react if she touched him there, though; the thought was enough to make him light-headed.  It did not help matters when she lifted one hand from the bed to his chest.

She blew lightly on his neck where she had kissed him, smiling with satisfaction as he shivered beneath her.  He hoped she would kiss him there again, that she wouldn’t notice his nipple pressing up against her palm, begging for attention.  If she just kept her hand still, maybe he could keep his composure.

When she shifted her hand to the side and dragged her thumb over the little nub.  Hux bit his lip.  His cock was fully hard now, and she would know it soon enough.  Against his will, he was already imagining what it would feel like to press it against her belly or the space between her thighs.  He was sure they were a bit soft too, but if she would take him out of his pants . . . if she pulled hers down too and let him feel her warm skin on his.

He writhed when she thumbed his nipple again, just barely biting back a moan.  Even in his haze of arousal, he knew it was ridiculous. She had only kissed him; surely she didn’t know she was affecting him like this. 

He angled his hips away from her when she kissed him again, turning halfway onto his side.  She sat back and looked at him, worried.

“Is everything alright, Armitage?”

He froze.  “I . . . I’m fine.  I just . . .” He struggled to speak, but no coherent words came; it wasn’t as though he could just tell her.  “I need to get up.”

The concern one her face only deepened as she rolled onto her back and watched him scramble to his feet.  With what he hoped was an apologetic look, he rushed out.

He winced when his bare feet touched the cold floor of the refresher, but it wasn’t enough to make his erection flag.  He could see the outline of it in the mirror, pressing up against the dark fabric of his pajama pants.  What he needed was a cold shower, but even the thought was painful.

Tugging his long-sleeved shirt over his head, he watched his reflection shiver.  He started to wrap his arms around himself but dropped them to his sides when they brushed against his stiff nipples.  He looked at his chest critically; he always had.  It was far too narrow.  But he had never really considered his nipples before.  They were small, like most men’s, but looked dark against the pale skin around them. And they seemed to be far more sensitive than average.  Dopheld was the first of his lovers to pay any attention to them, but even he was less responsive to having his touched. 

He was given to understand that women’s were more sensitive, but he had never had the opportunity to find out.  He wondered if Rose’s were.

The thought made his cock twitch again.  If he weren’t such a nervous wreck, he might be finding out now, he thought with a sigh.  Well, it was too late to go back. That would only make his mortification worse.

He turned on the hot tab in the stall, intended to jump in right away.  The cold water would, hopefully, take care of his erection and then when it warmed up he could finally stop shaking. Instead, he waited, slowly pulling off his pants, testing the water again.  He didn’t step in until it started to warm, but even so he shuddered when the spray hit his shoulders and chest.  Reaching for the soap, he lathered it between his hands.  Perhaps just ignoring his cock would be enough this time. 

As he washed under his arm, he let his soapy thumb stray down to brush over his nipple, curious how it would feel to do it himself.  Even such a slight touch was enough to make his entire body jump and his cock throb.  After he washed the other armpit, his forefinger jointed the thumb to roll his other nipple between them.  He bit down on his lip to stifle a groan before he remembered that Rose couldn’t hear him, not over the water and through the refresher door.  Did she know what he was doing? She probably could hear the water falling.  How did she feel, knowing that she had made him such a mess that he couldn’t wait to touch himself? The thought both shamed and thrilled him. He thumbed at his nipple again, the way she had through his shirt.  Perhaps the first touch had been an accident, like when she was asleep the previous week, but the second time she knew what she was doing.  She knew he liked it, without him even making a sound. How would she touch other parts of him? 

He grabbed the soap again, nearly dropping it in his haste to lather up.  When he had enough, he let go of it to slip a hand between his legs, working the suds into the wet hair surrounding his cock and then cupping his balls.  He wasn’t surprised to feel his cock jerk against belly at that.  Even when he bathed, he didn’t touch it any more than necessary to clean underneath his foreskin.  He slipped that back to expose the deep pink tip, and when he lightly squeezed it a droplet of white fluid appeared and was washed away.  His head fell back and he groaned. Wasting water rankled, but it wouldn’t be much longer now.

His knees nearly buckled at the first proper stroke, and when he rubbed his palm over the head he had to rest his back against the wall to keep from falling.  He closed his eyes and imagined Rose’s hand on him.  Her fingers were so short that she would squeeze him tight, though his width was hardly impressive.  Her fingers and thumb would be calloused from using her tools all day, and not even the lubricant would be enough to stop the rough bits from catching delightfully on his sensitive skin when she stroked over his slit and frenulum or reached up to pluck at his nipples.

Every stroke drew a moan from him now; he could feel the tension coiling almost painfully tight in his belly and his balls drawing up.  He lifted his other hand to his chest and pinched the nipple Rose had touched before, twisting it.  At the first spurt from his cock he collapsed against the wall, slack jawed with pleasure.  His orgasm seemed last forever, enough to fill the tub to overflowing on its own. 

He felt his back sliding down the shower wall, his knees bending and spreading as he lowered himself to floor where the forgotten soap waited.  When the bulk of it pressed against his oversensitive perineum he cried out once, and the again when his attempt to move the slippery bar resulted in him falling on his ass.  Sitting motionless on the floor seemed the safest option now, so he did, letting the water fall on him and not caring that it soaked his hair.  Perhaps it was a good thing Rose couldn’t see him like this.

* * *

Rose waited, torn by indecision.  Should she go and check on him? Why had he been in such a rush to leave? She had thought he was enjoying himself.

She certainly had been.  It hadn’t been the first time she had wanted to kiss him, but he had always seemed so anxious when she got close to him before.  But something had been different this time; he had never told her how he felt before.  Maybe she had taken that for more than it was worth.

Then she thought of how it had felt to have him writhing underneath her, making little noises of excitement when she kissed his neck.  She had been wondering if she had condoms and realized that she hadn’t bought any since she had moved.  And her birth control had expired even before the war was over. Just before he left, she was deciding that he would probably be more than content with a blow job.  And it probably wouldn’t take very long either. Perhaps it hadn’t even taken as much as that, hence the rush to ‘fresher.

She heard the door creak open and Armitage reappeared, damp and sheepish. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

A blush appeared on his cheeks as she knew it would.  “I’m fine.  I just . . . needed a moment.”

Sometimes, she did feel a little guilty, but she couldn’t resist.  She wondered if Dopheld had a pet name for him. Surely he hadn’t called him “General” all the time.

When he sat down next to her, she could hear him breathing hard, like he had gone for a run.  What had he been doing in the ‘fresher, she wondered, heat rushing to her cheeks.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Armitage smiled and reached to cup her check, tentatively, as though he was afraid she might bite him again.

“You didn’t.”

He leaned down to give her a chaste kiss and got up, turning out the lights.  When he climbed in and lay down, she stretched out next to him and put her head on his chest.  She listened to his heart beat, perhaps a bit faster than usual.  “Goodnight, Armitage.”

“Goodnight, Rose.”


	14. This Wine Won't Drink Itself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end! And, as warned by the "eventual smut" tag, the eventuality is arriving soon. The next two chapters are essentially E-rated, but here is one more smut-free, if alcohol-soaked, chapter first.

Rose thought about what had happened all the next day at work without coming any closer to a decision.  Should she say something to Armitage about what had happened? On the one hand, he would probably find a place of his own soon, so why risk ruining the little time they had left? On the other, wouldn’t she regret it if she didn’t ask for what she wanted before he was gone?

That was what Paige would say; she had never wasted time with indecision.  Sometimes it had annoyed Rose, but now she saw how useful that quality could be.  Not that Paige wouldn’t have been bewildered by this situation; who wouldn’t be?

Then Rose thought of Vi; she was always so clever, so good at influencing people.  She wished she could talk to her about this, but Vi was still off on a mission.  It had been so long that Rose was starting to wonder if she was ever coming back, but it was hardly the first time.  All of her missions were like that. That she wouldn’t approve of Armitage was an understatement, but she might be able to help decode his behavior.  After all, he would hardly be the first former First Order officer she had known.

But with no Paige and no Vi, Rose realized that the people who had the best chance of understanding her predicament were Poe and Finn. She still had dinner with them once a week, which meant she saw them more than anyone besides work friends, and she wasn’t close enough to any of them yet for this.   But it was almost enough to make her laugh out loud when she thought of it.  They could understand it; after all, Finn had successfully made the transition from stormtrooper to being a Resistance hero in his own right.  If anyone could understand how much someone could change, it was he.  But that didn’t mean he would. And she wasn’t sure Poe was much different.  He didn’t share a common history with Armitage, and she wasn’t sure if that was more or less helpful to her.

And then there was the delicate nature of the problem itself.  That issue was thorny enough even if it didn’t have to do with a notorious former enemy general.

As it turned out, she didn’t have much of a choice.  When she arrived at their apartment for dinner that night, it was Poe who greeted her.

“Rose!” he exclaimed, pressing his palm against his forehead as he let her in.  “I completely forgot.  I was supposed to send you message, but it slipped my mind.”

“Is Finn okay?” she asked, looking around for him, concern mounting.

“Oh, yeah.  He’s fine.  He’s just not going to get home until later.  One of the new recruits got hurt today, and Finn is staying with him in medbay until his parents can get here.”

“Oh no!” Rose frowned.  Of course Finn would do that; he must feel terrible.  He was so proud of the recruits, always telling her about the challenges he set for them and that they carried out so well.  He must be blaming himself, however inevitable some injuries were.

“So, are you going to him? Do we need to reschedule?” she asked, preparing herself for disappointment.

Poe pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “Well, I mean, I just found out about this myself, so . . . there’s still dinner.  And this wine won’t drink itself, right?”

Rose smiled as she walked in past him.  “I suppose it won’t.”

She tried to keep her troubles to herself as he caught her up on the story of Finn’s recruit, at least what she could from the details Finn had sent him.  And she complimented the food, a pork roast seasoned with lots of garlic and rosemary and surrounded by a heap of roasted potatoes.  She did all she could to be a model guest.  But then, halfway through their first glasses of wine, Poe asked how things were going with her.

“Well . . . I kissed Armitage.”

“Who’s . . .?” Poe began, but he stopped before he reached the end of the sentence.  His dark eyebrows drew together as he slowly lowered his glass to the table.

“You did what?”

“I . . .”

“You kissed General Hugs!”

Now it was Rose’s turn to scowl.  “I told you I don’t like it when you . . .”

“No, you’re right.  I’m sorry.  I just . . . wow!” He raised his palms to his eyes, as though trying to rub away the image that had appeared in his mind.  Rose felt the back of her neck prickle and a cold sweat start underneath her arms.  What was she thinking, bringing that up without even warning him?

Poe lowered his hands and reached for his glass, draining the rest of the red liquid.  Rose followed his lead.

“Wh . . . why?” he asked tentatively, as though he wasn’t sure he actually wanted the answer.

Rose shrugged in reply.  “I can’t really say for sure.  We were talking about him moving.  He told me that he would miss me, and I just . . .”

“What did he do?” Poe blurted. “I mean, after you . . .”

Rose felt blood rush to her cheeks.   She was still grappling with his reaction herself; it seemed almost indecent to share such details with someone who knew Armitage as little as Poe did.  But at the same time, well, she had to talk to someone.  And she had already said too much.

“He was fine for a few minutes.  Then he, uh . . .”

Poe watched her intently, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Then he said he had to get up and rushed to the ‘fresher,” she finished, speaking so fast that her words nearly ran together.

In the silence that followed, Poe reached for the wine to pour them each another glass full.

“So, you kissed and . . . what? He had indigestion?”

Rose narrowed her eyes.  Did he think she was naïve? “Well, when he came back to bed a few minutes later, I didn’t press him for details.”

It wasn’t until Poe’s eyes widened that she remembered she hadn’t told him and Finn that either.

“Back to bed? To your bed? Where you both sleep?”

Rose took a sip of her wine.  She didn’t usually have more than one class; with her size, she had to be careful.  Tonight, though, it seemed justified.

Poe shook his head and she waited anxiously for him to speak.  “I mean.  It’s your life, Rose.  I don’t . . . but I just . . . I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” she asked, terse.  “You can’t accept it?” It struck her that this was likely only the first time of many if she and Armitage were together.  No one would accept that she could care for him or he for her, no matter what she said.  It was a depressing prospect. She took another sip from her glass.

Poe raised his index finger. “No, I didn’t say that.  It’s not for me to accept or not.  I just . . . what I can’t do is comprehend it.”

“Well, I don’t know why!” she challenged him. “Finn came from the First Order just as much as Armitage did.  And you certainly accept him.”

“That’s totally different,” he protested.  “Finn wanted to leave!”

“So did Armitage! We didn’t exactly drag him off the ship kicking and screaming, did we?

Rose lifted her hand to her lips reflexively as she finished, recalling with horror that she now knew the reason why that had been.  A reason that Poe and Finn absolutely could not know about.

Luckily, Poe was looking into his glass, thoughtful. “I suppose that’s true,” he began. “Even though he . . . ah, never mind.  We’re done with all that.” As though to punctuate his statement, he took another drink.

Rose sighed with relief, glad that this wouldn’t be yet another conversation about General Hux wanting to save his skin.

“So,” Poe began again.  “You, ah, overwhelmed him.  But nothing else happened? Just the kiss and that’s it?”

Rose nodded, it was more or less the truth.  “He seemed fine when he got back from ‘fresher, though.”

“I’ll bet,” Poe replied, cocking an eyebrow. 

Rose felt blood rush to her face.  She tried not to picture what Poe was suggesting but failed.  The thought had occurred to her before, and it intrigued her, which only made her more embarrassed.  After a moment’s hesitation, she reached for her wine again.

“The problem is,” she said as she sat down the almost empty glass, “I don’t know what to do now.  I mean, I know he liked it.  I know he likes me.”

“And you like him. You’re . . .” Poe paused, as though choosing his words carefully. “Attracted to him.”

Rose searched his face for signs of disgust, but all she saw was resignation.  And maybe a hint of curiosity.

“Yes.”

Poe stood and reached for the bottle again, refilling his own and then, after a nod from Rose, hers too.

“You want to have sex with him?”

Rose picked up her glass and Poe waited as she took a deep gulp. “Yes.”

Poe took that in information quietly, mulling it over.  Rose was glad of the alcohol dulling her senses.  Without it, she couldn’t imagine how anxious she’d feel, but with it? She was just glad to be able to say it out loud.

“Finn thinks he’s only attracted to men.  He says that’s what the whole First Order thought.”

Rose’s eyebrows went up at that.  Why of all things would Finn and Poe be discussing Armitage’s sexual preferences? How would Finn even have occasion to know about that, let alone the whole order?

“But then, Finn also thought I was only interested in women at first, so there’s a good chance he just doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Was he . . . ?” Rose stopped herself.  She had always been curious, but it was so improper to ask.  But then, she was drunk.  Perhaps Poe would forgive her on that score.  “Had he never . . .?”

“Yeah,” Poe answered without hesitation.  “It was all pretty new to him.”

“How did you . . . work with that?”

Poe took another sip of wine.  “I was just really, really patient.  I checked in with him a lot, especially at first.  But Finn’s always been really easy to read, so that helped.  I just told him I wanted to make him feel good.  That seemed to work the best.”

Rose nodded, filing the information away.  She hoped she would be able to retrieve it later when she was sober.

* * *

Finn was exhausted.  Since that afternoon, it had felt as though the day would never end.  Since the moment he had heard Blaise’s arm snap when Rafe threw him to the ground, if he were honest.  They had been practicing self-defense maneuvers, and Finn tried to take it as a sign that at least one lesson had been well-learned.  It didn’t do much for his guilt, though.

But Blaise’s parents had arrived finally, and at least neither they nor Blaise had blamed him.  They had showered him with praise and gratitude, which still made him more uncomfortable than anything.  He had been glad to get away, and would be even more glad to be at home with his boyfriend and a big glass of wine.

“Poe, I’m home!” he called out when he entered the house.

“We’re in here!” came a response from the living room.  A response that was not Poe’s voice.

Finn sighed.  He had forgotten about Rose.  Ordinarily, he enjoyed her visits.  It was good to see that she was doing well in spite of her circumstances, and he was glad to be able to get her away from her company every once in while.  But tonight, he really wanted Poe to himself.  And the wine, too.

When he entered the room, the sight at greeted him was not what he expected.  Poe was sitting on the couch, his arms stretched out on the back, but Rose was reclining on her back with her head in Poe’s lap. Both of them red-faced and laughing at Finn couldn’t imagine what.  On the coffee table was an empty bottle of wine.

“It looks like I missed the party,” he observed with a smile, half-amused and half-worried.  It wasn’t like Rose to drink that much.  Or Poe either, for that matter.

“Well, you’re here now!” Poe pointed out, a little louder than necessary.  “Sit down and have a . . . have a . . .” He frowned as he looked at the empty bottle, as though seeing it for the first time.

“What about the back-up?” Finn asked.  They usually bought bottles of wine by the pair for Poe’s dinners “just in case.” But they always ended up saving the other bottle for a night when it was just the two of them.

Poe indicated the empty bottle with a sheepish smile.  “You’re looking at it.”

Finn restrained a sigh.  Just great.

“Hey, Finn, buddy.  There’s something I need you to do.”

Finn pressed his lips together as he waited.  “Buddy” had been replaced with an even more endearing term for so long now that Poe only used his original nickname when he was uncertain about something.

“Okay.”

Poe looked down at his lap.  “I need you to take Rose home.  As you can see, she’s had a little . . .”

“I’m FINE!” she insisted, so suddenly and so loudly that Finn jumped. “I don’t need help to . . . I’ll just call a taxi and . . .”

“No, it’s fine,” Finn interjected.  “You sit up, drink some water while I call a taxi. I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

Poe grinned.  “Thanks, buddy.  I’d take her, but as you see I’m . . .”

Finn looked him over and nodded in agreement.  Stars, what had he missed? Maybe he should have stayed at the hospital.

He had hoped that Rose would continue to doze on the way back to her apartment; it was only a short trip.  But the cold air outside seemed to revive her and made her quite lively.  And touchy.  And loud.

“Look at all the ice, Finn!” she cried, in spite of the close proximity of her head on his shoulder.  “Have you ever seen so much?”

Finn shook his head.  And he hoped to never see it again, but it was only going to get worse.  One of his fellow officers had told him that snow was in the forecast for later in the week.  He hadn’t seen snow since he was on Starkiller Base.  Not the best memory even apart from his near-death experience.

“There’s supposed to be snow soon,” he ventured, trying to keep up his side of the conversation.

He soon regretted it.  “WHAT!?” Rose shouted so loud that his ears rang and the taxi driver glared at them in the rearview mirror.  Finn didn’t know whether she was being incredulous or she really didn’t know what snow was, but he hesitated to ask.  Instead, he spent the rest of the ride thinking of what awaited in the apartment.

He had liked the idea of never seeing Hux again; it had almost reconciled him to the fact that he still lived. For all General Organa and Rose’s confidence, he didn’t see how he could ever change, but if he wasn’t in a position to do any harm, did it really matter?  But it didn’t mean he wanted to have anything to do with him, and he was quite sure Hux felt the same.

And now he was delivering him his drunk and raving roommate.

When the taxi came to a stop, Finn carefully helped Rose out.  She seemed to be a little sturdier than when he had put her in, so perhaps she wasn’t as drunk as he thought she was.  When they got to door and Rose started to type in her code, Finn let himself breathe a sigh of relief.

Then, Rose paused.  “Huh, I thought that was it.”

As he watched Rose attempt the code again, he started to sweat.

“Kriff! How do I not know the code? I’ve used it every day for . . .”

Finn’s heartbeat quickened. “Well, that’s alright,” he said. “We’ll go back home and you can sleep on our sofa and then tomorrow . . .”

“ARMITAGE!” Rose shouted, knocking loudly on the door.  “Armitage! I can’t get in.  Open the door!”

Finn took hold of her arms and pulled her back so she couldn’t reach it, but there was nothing he could do about the shouting.

“Rose, hush, please! You’ll wake the neighbors; it’s late.”

“It won’t take a minute,” she assured him.  “He always waits up for me.  He just needs to know we’re out here.  ARMITAGE!”

Before Finn could protest further, the door swung open.  On the other side stood Hux looking as he had never seen him before: a soft light blue bathrobe hastily flung over his black pajamas, his hair sticking up at the back of his head as though he had been lying down, and his green eyes wide with shock and worry.

“Rose? What happened to her?”

It took Hux repeating the question for Finn to realize it was directed at him.  And to recognize the accusation in his tone.

“Nothing happened,” he replied, defensive.  “She just . . . she and Poe had a lot to drink and we didn’t want to send her home by herself.”

Hux’s eyes fell to Rose and his face softened immediately.  “Are you feeling alright, Rose?”

In answer, she pulled out of the grip Finn had forgotten he had her in and lunged forward, burying her face in Hux’s chest and wrapping her arms around him underneath his robe. Hux’s face went red and when he spoke his voice was strained, as though she was squeezing him too tight.

“You’re not drunk?”

“What? No!” Finn snapped, unsure why the question stung.  For Hux to suggest that _he_ wasn’t considerate enough of Rose was bizarre to say the least.  “I’ve been in the medbay.”

“Oh.” Hux’s voice sounded normal, as though Rose’s arms had relaxed.  He made effort to pull away, though.  Instead, one hand rested on her back and the other rubbed soothing circles between her shoulder blades. 

“Are you alright?”

The question took Finn aback.  “What now?”

“You were in medbay, you said,” Hux reminded him.  “Were you hurt?”

Finn didn’t know how to reply.  Hux was concerned about him? That couldn’t be, and yet he didn’t know why else he would ask.

“Not me.  One of my troopers got injured and . . .”

It took seeing Hux’s eyes widen and the color draining from his face for him to realize what he had said.

“Recruits, I mean.  Kriff, not troopers. I don’t have troopers.” He could feel his ears burning with embarrassment.

“That is a relief,” Hux replied.  After an awkward silence, he added. “How are they?”

Finn stared at him, open mouthed.  Hux asking about him was weird enough, but someone he hadn’t even met? “He’s fine.  We were doing defensive maneuvers and his sparring partner dropped him too hard.”

Hux nodded.  “Yes, that seemed to send more of Phasma’s troopers to medbay than anything else.  It was the first time they had so much physical contact with each other, after all.  Hardly surprising.”

Finn was aware that he was staring at him again, but he couldn’t seem to stop.  It was the most reasonable thing anyone had said to him all day.  He had noticed that when he was one of Phasma’s new troopers, of course, but he supposed time had made him forget.  And that Hux had noticed it at all astounded him.

“Yeah.  Well, I’d better get home.” He glanced down at Rose, who still had not moved.  “She’ll be fine.  Just put her to bed.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Hux replied, and to Finn’s surprise, it was easy to believe.  “Thank you for bringing her home.” Keeping a hand on Rose’s back to steady her, he turned back into the apartment. 

It wasn’t until the door closed that Finn realized he was still standing there, watching them, trying to process what he had seen.  Finally, he turned, making his way back to the taxi and getting in silently.  A few minutes into the drive, he chuckled.  Then he began to laugh—long, loud guffaws that he soon gave up trying to control. The driver caught his eye in the mirror again.

“You okay, buddy?”

Finn shook his head, wiping at the tears that had formed in his eyes. “Man, it’s just been a really long day.”

When he got home, he found that Poe had already gone to bed. As he washed his face and brushed his teeth, he tried to make sense of it.  The few times he and Rose had talked about Hux they had disagreed.  She was defensive of him, but Finn had suspected that it was really her own decision she was defending.  Now, he wasn’t so sure.

He got a glass of water for Poe in case he got thirsty during the night and placed it on the bedside table.  After undressing himself, he slowly got into bed only to feel Poe shift next to him.

“Everything alright, baby?” he murmured, rolling onto his side.  Finn leaned closer to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Mmmhmm.  Finally.”

“Did you meet Hugs?”

Finn gave a little laugh at that.  “I certainly met somebody.  Hard to believe it was Hux, though.  He was . . . actually polite.”

To Finn’s relief, Poe yawned.  He wasn’t ready to talk about that yet; he needed a good night’s sleep first.

“Well, Rose sure likes him.  That’s what she was telling me about all night.”

“Really?” No wonder they had needed so much wine.  “It’s hard to believe, but I think he likes her, too.  You should have seen him when he opened the door.  He thought she had gotten hurt and he sounded like he was gonna have me arrested for negligence, but then . . .”

He trailed off when he heard Poe snoring softly next to him.  Rolling onto his back, Finn looked at the ceiling and though, as he often did, of how much his life had changed for the better.  And that had changed him, too.  He had grown more compassionate now that he lived among people who rewarded it instead of seeing it as a weakness.  Perhaps, on some level, the same was true of Hux.  Maybe Rose was more of an influence on him than he had realized.

Finn’s eyes drifted shut and he finally let his mind relax.  He had been wrong about so many things in the past, mostly for the best.  What was one more?


	15. You're a Bit of a Screamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Editing this chapter was a game of Connect the Smuts. Hopefully, the transitions aren't too rough, but it's been a crazy week.

Rose woke up alone in her bad, her head throbbing dully.

“What the fuck did you do, Rose?” she murmured, her mouth so parched she could barely speak. She saw a glass of clear liquid on the bedside table and grabbed so fast she spilled half and swore again.

She gulped down the remainder, and it did make her feel a little better.  At least she had done something sensible the night before.

And the she remembered, and lay down again with a low groan.  Armitage.

What has she been like the night before? Paige had always told her she was a loud drunk and laughed about it the next morning.  Rose was sure Paige wouldn’t lie, even to tease her, but she always thought she was speaking in a normal voice.  It was bad enough being like that around Finn and even Poe, but she must have scared Armitage to death.  And she had probably gotten too handsy with him, too. No wonder he didn’t want to sleep next to her.

It was enough to make her lie down again and pull the covers over her head.  At least she didn’t have to go to work like this.  She could get a little more sleep, and then wake up and have some more water.  One thing was certain; she didn’t want to face Armitage again until she was at least half coherent.

* * *

Hux startled, nearly dropping his blueprint when he heard Rose wake up.  Surely it was too early for her to get up after how she had been the night before.

It had been years since he had had more to drink at one time than a single glass of whiskey after a particularly trying day, but he could still remember what it felt like in his twenties.  The only thing worse than the hangover was the realization that he had made himself vulnerable.

What did I do? What did I say? These were the questions he always had, but had never dared to ask.  It was easier to not drink in company at all.

He knew that Rose trusted Poe and Finn, and he was sure they would have let her stay had she asked.  But she had wanted to come home to him; he felt oddly touched by that as he recalled the previous night.

After Finn left, he half carried Rose to bed and got her a glass of water.  She refused, insisting all the time that she was “fine.”  He left it on the bedside table, knowing that she would need it soon, and started removing her coat and then her boots.  She tried to remove the rest on her own, and he did let her struggle for a moment before reaching for her to intervene again.

Her pants were easy enough to remove, and though he tried not to look at her legs, he failed enough to notice that they were even smaller than he would have thought.  Small, but muscular.  She could squeeze them so tight around him.

He dismissed the inappropriate thought and sat back, waiting to see what further assistance she would need.  She reached up behind her back with both hands, struggled for a moment and dropped them down by her sides again.  Glancing up at him from underneath her bangs, she gave him an apologetic little smile and tried again.  With a growl of frustration, she dropped her arms by her sides again and turned, presenting her back to him.

“Help me out, Armitage,” she murmured, gesturing vaguely at the area beneath her shoulder blades.  Hux reached out with scarcely an idea of what he was looking for.  He found an elastic band, but when he gently tugged at it Rose shouted and made him jump

“Not like that! There’s a clasp; you have to undo it.”

With his hands trembling ever so slightly, he tried again.  It took some effort once he had found the clasps—there were, in fact, three—but finally he was able to open the back.  Rose sighed loudly and turned to the side, reaching for the shoulder opposite him.  When she got to the other side, he saw that she was tugging a black strap down underneath the sleeve of her t-shirt and over her elbow.  Reaching up under her shirt, she pulled down what looked to Hux like some type of harness, but he did not get a very good look.  He had felt her breasts pressing against his belly when she put her head on his chest and on his back when she held him from behind, but he had never allowed himself to look at them before.  The fact was, apparently, not lost on Rose.

“You’ve never taken off a bra before, have you?”

So that was what it was.  He hadn’t even known what it was called before, but Rose didn’t need to know that.  He shook his head.

“Hmm” she murmured, more to herself than him.  “I guess you’ve never felt a woman’s tits then either, have you?”

Hux’s eyes widened and his ears burned.  He had definitely heard that word, but it had been many years.  It had always seemed so dirty, but he had to admit, he was curious.

“I . . . no”

Rose followed his gaze down to her chest.  The swell of her breasts fell a little lower with the bra off, but they looked softer.  As though she could read his mind, Rose cupped one in her hand and gave it a little squeeze. 

Hux felt his mouth go dry.  Her hand was so small that only part of it fit, the rest bulging up over her fingers against the fabric of her shirt.  How much of it would fit in his? On his lap, his right hand itched to find out.  Just above it, he could feel his cock getting hard, and it twitched at the thought of her breast filling his palm and her nipple hardening between his fingers.  Since her breasts were so much bigger than his, he imagined her nipples were, too: plump pink nubs to pinch and lick.

He jumped when he felt Rose’s warm fingers on his wrist.  “Come feel,” she purred.  “You’ll like it.”

With some effort, Hux pulled out of her grasp and dropped his hand back to his lap, shifting in an attempt to hide his erection.  She didn’t know what she was saying or doing, but he did.  His cheeks and ears grew hotter with embarrassment.  He knew it was mostly from being caught fantasizing about groping her while she was drunk, but there was something else as well.  How would she feel if she remembered letting him feel her the next morning? What if that was the only way she would let him?

“Not now,” he muttered, awkward, unable to meet her gaze. “Let’s get you under the covers instead.”

Rose lay back with a huff.  “Fine! But next time, you’ll see.  I won’t forget.”

Hux’s traitorous cock twitched again as he covered her up, and he rushed out of the room on the pretext of getting ice for her drink. 

When he came back, he was relieved to find her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling steadily.  He climbed into bed with his back to her, but no sooner did he start to relax the she rolled over and nestled against him, nuzzling the back of his neck.  He tried to ignore the warmth spreading through him, but it only got worse when she wrapped her arm around him too.  When she draped her thigh over his hip and sighed against his ear, he gave up, wriggling out of her grasp.  He pushed his pillow into her arms and slipped on his robe, making his way to the couch.

It was narrower than he remembered, and certainly colder.  He had to remind himself that it had been a different season when slept there regularly, but it felt like it had been longer than that. The strangeness had him wide awake again.  He knew that he would start making inquires about a new living situation soon, and then everything would feel strange all over again.  He dreaded it, even with General Organa’s help.  She had offered him housing near the capital building for his safety, but even she acknowledged that the extra security would take a lot of adjustment after living in an apartment.  He wanted, at the very least, a place where Rose would feel comfortable visiting. 

He knew there had to be a better solution, but sleep overtook him before he could find it.

* * *

Rose knew it was well into the morning when he finally tumbled out of bed.  She barely murmured to Armitage as he passed behind him to make her way to the kitchen where tea waited.  This time, she reached for the almost untouched citrus-scented black tea, hoping the caffeine would do her some good.  She still had a dull headache, but at least it wasn’t throbbing anymore. With her cup in hand, she timidly made her way into the living room.

Armitage looked up from her datapad with a smile when she sat down next to him.

“Feeling better?”

Rose only scoffed in reply and took a sip of her tea.  “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.  If I do that again, you should just leave me outside.”

He chuckled, looking back at his screen.  A quick glance showed Rose that he was looking at apartments.  Great, she thought to herself.  Just what I need to see.

“Any prospects?” she asked, hoping her tone sounded lighter than she felt.

“To be perfectly honest,” he began.  “I have no idea what I’m looking for.  I try to find apartments that look like this one, but they’re all . . .”

Rose watched him as he trailed off.  She didn’t want to make him more anxious, but she was curious.  “What? Are they under your price range?”

She was hoping for another smile, but he only looked confused.  She recalculated.

“I mean . . . with what your new job will pay you can afford a much nicer place than this.”

Armitage frowned.  “I’m not so sure about that.  Perhaps bigger, but what do a I need with a bigger one?”

“No,” Rose agreed.  “You certainly don’t take up much space.” He looked at her again, concerned.  She supposed she did sound sad, but how could she explain why? All she could say was that she would miss him, and hadn’t she made herself vulnerable enough already?

Well, if they were going to talk about something uncomfortable anyway . . .

“Hey, Armitage?”

There was that concerned look again.  “Yes?”

“When I . . . When you were putting me to bed, did I . . . do anything?”

She saw his eyes widen a fraction before he dropped them to his screen again.  “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“I mean . . . did I do anything that made you uncomfortable? Did I . . . touch you?”

The corners of his mouth twitched up and a slight blush rose on his cheeks.  Oh fuck.

“Not anything too out of the ordinary,” he replied, watching the screen intently though nothing new appeared on it.

Something had happened; she was certain of that.  But whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, though.”

He still wasn’t looking at her, which made it a bit hard to tell whether he was telling the truth or not.  Rose decided to believe him.  She was too tired for anything else.

“Well, that’s good.  Come on.  Let’s find you a place to live.”

The did not find him a place to live.  Rose told him about how she had found her apartment and the others she had looked at, but nothing seemed to catch his interest, and eventually they had dropped the subject.  Armitage’s plans for the greenhouse were complete, and he seemed cautiously pleased with them.  He was most nervous about meeting his engineering team.

Well, they were both nervous about that. She hoped, at least, that he wouldn’t leave before he had met them.

There was something else she wanted to happen before he left.  That was hard to bring up, too, but with each passing day she felt she was running out of time.  At the very least, it was easier than talking about how she felt.

As she waited for him to wash up that night, she tried to think of how to broach he matter without being a blunt as she usually was.  When he came back, though, looking so clean and soft, in his pajamas and the blue robe she had gotten him, her nerves dissipated.  The worst he could do was say no.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she began as he lay down next to her.  It wasn’t for the first time, but she thought it would be good to say it again.

“Don’t worry about that.  You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed about.”

Rose arched an eyebrow.  Shouting at him in the dead of night, probably waking the neighbors, was well worth her embarrassment, but she wasn’t going to argue with him.

“But . . . I think I embarrassed you the night before that, didn’t I?”

His blush was all the answer she needed.  “I . . . I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you remember?” she urged.  “We were kissing, and then you got up all of a sudden.  I . . . know you aren’t used to it, and I’m afraid I . . . overwhelmed you.”

Armitage sighed.  “A bit, I suppose.  But you did nothing wrong.  I just . . . as you say, I’m not used to that.”

She propped herself up on an elbow, smiling down at him.  “You didn’t kiss in the First Order?”

His blush darkened prettily in response.  “Only when we liked each other, so . . . not all that often, no.”

“Dopheld kissed you, though?”

He looked away from her, nodding.  She had considered whether to bring up his lover or not; it always had the effect of making him look so small and sad.  But, she would sooner have him on Armitage’s mind than the other one.

“You know I’d never do anything to . . . to hurt you, or . . .  make you feel like you couldn’t say no or . . .”

“Rose?” He sounded almost frightened.  “I don’t know what you want.”

 “I just,” she began, tentative.  “I want to make you feel good.”

Armitage’s lips relaxed into a smile.  “You do.  You already make me feel good.”

Rose shook her head, trying to hide her amusement.  He didn’t quite get it.  “No, I . . . what I mean is . . . I want to give you an orgasm.”

“Oh.” His blush deepened and spread to his ears, but she noted that he made no effort to move away.  She wondered how far it would spread if he let her have what she wanted.

“Will you let me?” She had tried to be patient, but he looked so uncertain.

Her request didn’t seem to calm him in the least, but he stretched out on his back all the same.  “If you like.”

He glanced up at her, waiting.

Rose’s heart pounded and her mouth felt dry.  She had expected him to need a little more coaxing, which would have given her time to figure out exactly what she wanted to do.

Best to start simple, she decided, and leaned down to kiss him.  When she pulled back to see his reaction, he only looked confused.

“I just . . . this helps me get in the mood,” she explained.  He made no reply to that, but it didn’t take long for him to grow compliant when she kissed him again.  Slipping her hand underneath his t-shirt drew a needy little sound from him, and she pulled back again.

“Can I take this off?” She noted how ragged her own voice had become.  This might not take long for either of them.

He inhaled shakily and gave her a barely perceptible nod, raising up just enough to let her pull his shirt over his shoulders and head. As he lay down again, he faced the wall, as though he feared seeing the disappointment in her eyes. 

Or maybe he was just shy; it had been a long time since anyone had seen so much of him. 

He was thin and very pale, not what Rose had thought herself attracted to at all, but a wave of arousal rolled through her at the sight all the same. She lay down on top of him, pressing her breasts against his bare chest as she kissed along the curve of his neck.  He gave a tiny yelp when she nipped him just below his ear.  She started to pull back again, but he put a hand on the back of her neck to keep her in place.  Well then.

If she couldn’t move her head, at least her hands were free.  Armitage sucked in a breath when she slid a hand up his side to touch his narrow chest.  Her little finger brushing against a peaked nipple pulled a soft cry from him, and this time he let her raise her head from his neck and sit back to watch.  As her palm hovered over his chest, she circled the tight pink nub with the tip of her middle finger.  A spark ignited low in her belly as he writhed and whimpered under her.

“Oh, you _are_ sensitive,” she murmured, delighted.  Armitage said nothing, but the way he squirmed as she lightly thumbed at his nipple was all the confirmation she needed.  A part of her wanted to keep playing with them until he begged her to touch his cock.  Maybe even until he came. But in that event, she doubted he would let her see the rest of him.

She sat back on her heels, her eyes roaming down his belly to settle on the tent in his pajama pants.  Though she had felt his erection pressing against her before, she felt sure that it was even harder now.  Were it not for the dark fabric—she had indulged his request for black pajamas—she wondered if she could see a damp spot where precome had already started to seep though.

Without shifting her gaze, she moved her hand across his chest.  She thought she saw his cock twitch when her fingers reached his other nipple.  To make sure, she pressed it between her thumb and forefinger, tugging gently. Not only did his cock jerk hard against the fabric, but he groaned so loud that she looked up at him with concern.

His flush reached all the way to his sternum now and his chest rose and fell rapidly.  His eyes were closed tight, but he opened them when she spoke.

“Can I touch you here?” She lay her hand just underneath his navel, over the waistband of his pants.  He seemed to know just what she meant, nodding this time with no hesitation.

“Will you show it to me?”

He made no reply at first except to shudder, but when Rose slid her hand up his belly towards his chest again, he reached for his waistband and tugged it down his hips.  Rose’s breath caught as the tip of his cock emerged from underneath it, but her brows knit with a frown when he lowered the band again, leaving only the tip and a little bit of his shaft exposed.  “You kriffing tease!” rose to her lips, but died when she looked up at his face.  It was bright pink with arousal, and maybe embarrassment, and he still wasn’t looking at her.

She lay her hand on his waistband again, stroking it and tracing his tip with her finger where it lay against his belly.  A featherlight stroke over his already wet slit made him whine and coaxed another fat droplet of precome out; his hips bucked when she smeared it over his frenulum and down his shaft as far as she could reach.  When he was still again, she tucked the fingers of both hands into his waistband.

“Will you let me pull these down a little more? I really want to touch all of you.”

This time, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and gave a little nod.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” His voice came out raspy and small, as though holding back was taking every bit of strength he had.

He raised his hips and let her pull his pants down underneath his ass before he lowered them again, and Rose’s eyes widened as they settled on his cock.  It wasn’t big--perhaps that had been his hesitation--but it was beautiful, his shaft pale pink against the much darker color of the tip peeking out from his foreskin.  She wanted to trace the veins that stood out with her tongue and push the foreskin back with her lips, holding his thighs down as he writhed and moaned.

Another time, maybe. Once he had gotten used to her touching him. 

“Hold on just a second.  I want to get some lotion for my hands so I don’t hurt you.  Mechanics’ fingers are rough, you know.”

From the way his cock twitched when she said “rough,” she wasn’t sure he would mind.

It wasn’t until she got up that Rose realized how aroused she was, so swollen and slick between her legs that the crotch of her pajama bottoms was damp against her inner thigh.  She hoped Armitage wouldn’t be too overwhelmed after he came.  After all, it had been a while for her, too.

As she slathered the lotion on her hands, she realized that he was watching every movement intently, his self-consciousness finally retreating.  She looked away to hide her smile.

His eyes fell shut and he moaned at the first stroke of her slick hand up his cock, and at the second he threw his elbow over his face as if to hide from her. She felt a moment’s pique at that, but as her pace increased and his moans grew louder, she began to enjoy being unobserved.  Shifting to get a better angle, she pressed her cunt against the mattress, sending a wave of pleasure through her belly.  Soon she was rocking in time with her strokes, digging the fingers of her free hand into Armitage’s thigh.  When she realized she was doing it, she let go for fear of hurting him. But where should her hand go?

Underneath his cock, Armitage’s balls looked heavy and soft, too tempting to neglect.  She intended to just cup them against her palm, but when his cock jumped in her hand at the first touch, she couldn’t resist giving them a little squeeze.  He arched his back and cried out, and after only a few strokes more he was coming.

As she watched him spurt and shake, Rose’s restraint dissolved.  She slipped a hand between her legs, cupping her mound and pressing her fingers against her slit.  Her first moan startled her back into self-awareness, but as she looked down at Armitage she saw that his arm had slid back above his head and his eyes were still closed.

“You okay, sweetie?” she asked, her voice thick with arousal.

He didn’t open his eyes, but he smiled.  “That’s an understatement.”

“Good.”

“Was I terribly loud?”

Rose chuckled at that.  “I wouldn’t say terribly.  You’re a bit of a screamer, but I suppose I knew that.”

She felt him smile against her lips when she leaned down to kiss him, but this time it took a couple of flicks of her tongue against his lips for him to open his mouth to her. Her hand hovered at her waistband; perhaps if she got started, she could convince him to replace it with his once he had recovered a bit.

It wasn’t until he took an unexpectedly deep breath through his mouth that she realized he had fallen asleep.

“Armitage!” she growled.  It was hard to be patient when her cunt was almost aching to be touched.

His eyes fluttered open.  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he murmured. She moved her hand just as his gaze fell on it, and her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.  It was a bit too much to ask, especially considering her offer.

“It’s fine.  I mean, you don’t have to . . .”

For a moment, his brow creased with confusion, but then he glanced down again.

“Oh. I can . . . try,” he suggested, uncertain.

It was enough to make Rose smile.  She appreciated his willingness, but he didn’t have a clue.  She, on the other hand . . .

“No, it’s okay.  I can take care of myself.”

Armitage frowned.  “Are you sure?”

Rose sat up, considering.  She wanted him so much, but besides his lack of experience, he was exhausted.  Not a recipe for success.

“How about this,” she began, slipping her hand underneath her waistband.  When she cupped her hot mound with her hand again, it felt so good she almost forgot what she was saying.  “You can watch, and then next time you’ll know what to do.”

She could hardly believe what she was saying, and her cheeks flushed hotter as she spoke, but when she looked at Armitage again, he nodded intently.

His eyes dropped to the hand between her legs and she took it as a sign to continue.  Her breath hitched as she parted her lips with two fingers and she moaned when she dragged them over her clit.  Soon her hips were rising to meet each stroke, her breath growing ragged.  The sight of Armitage watching her, completely absorbed in every sound and movement, went straight to her core and she moaned again.

Some distant part of her brain suggested that he probably couldn’t see much given that she was still dressed, but the tension within her was drawing so tight she didn’t care.  Besides, he had already proven himself a quick learner, and she intended to give him as many chances to practice as she could.


	16. Stay

She awoke the next morning with her head on Armitage’s chest.  He was still fast asleep, and in the same position he had been in when she returned from the ‘fresher the previous night.  Even as she had wiped down his belly with her washcloth, he hadn’t stirred.  It was a little bit disconcerting, but she supposed she had overwhelmed him a little.

She pressed a kiss to the bare skin just below her lips and then another below that before she raised her head to get a better look.  She recalled him lying next to her, naked from the thighs up watching her with her hand in her pants, fully clothed.  The memory made her blush and she lay her head down again.

The room was freezing, almost as cold as it had been the night the heater stopped working.  Rose pulled the covers up higher around her neck, wishing Armitage would wake up and put his arms around her, maybe spoon her from behind.  He was surprisingly warm given how thin he was.

Rose drew the covers off of his shoulder and he gave a little shiver and murmured with discomfort, but his eyes remained closed.  She pulled again, this time low enough to reveal his stiff nipples.  She couldn’t help noticing how different they looked when they were hard from cold than when she had played with them; like this, they were almost as pale as the rest of him.  She had covered his chest with her palms and was about to rub it to warm him up when his eyes flew open.

“Good morning,” she murmured, pulling her hands back guiltily as he stared up at her.

“Good morning.” Armitage sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, turning his back to her, but not fast enough for her to miss the blush that rose on his cheeks.  She reached down for her robe, which had fallen to the floor, and by the time she had put it on he had done the same, wrapping it so tight that she couldn’t see any of his chest at all.  He would let her touch but, apparently, she still wasn’t allowed to look.

“Shall I put the kettle on?” he asked. She thought she could hear a hint of nerves underneath the grogginess in his voice. 

“Yeah,” she muttered.  When he was gone, she sat down on the bed with a sigh.  Things hadn’t changed as much as she thought.  It seemed she would have to be patient for a while longer.

When she got to the kitchen, Armitage had set out both of their pots and mugs and was washing the dishes she had forgotten about in the sink.  Usually she did them as soon as she was finished cooking, but she had had a lot on her mind yesterday.

“Sorry about that.  I guess I just . . .”

“It’s fine, Rose,” Armitage said, giving her a smile over his shoulder.  “I’m a little fidgety anyway.  It helps to do something.”

She stared at him for a moment before she remembered and smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand.

“Ah, it’s today, isn’t it? You’re meeting your team today?”

He glanced at her again, and this time the smile was gone.

“Yes, but . . . I’d rather not talk about that if you don’t mind.  Doing it is enough.”

Rose shrugged.  She supposed that was fair.  After all, she preferred not to talk about his moving.  Or think about it, for that matter.

Once their tea was ready, Armitage left her to make breakfast on her own.  For all her encouragement, he still insisted on just tea, and this time she let it go.  Nerves were best handled on an empty stomach.

She ate and he drank his tea in almost complete silence; perhaps it was for the best, but she noticed that even the silence didn’t seem to help.  If anything, he only grew paler and more anxious.

“I suppose I should get dressed too,” he said, a little forlorn as she emerged from the bedroom ready for work.

Rose tried to smile.  “I’m sure it will be fine, Armitage.  They’ll be excited to get to work.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, clearly not buying it.

She started to leave, but something held her in place.  Instead of turning for the door, she walked up to him and reached up, gently taking his face in her hands. He dropped his eyes, but made no attempt to move.

“Armitage, look at me.”

A couple of seconds later, his eyes flitted back to hers.

“You have nothing to be worried about. They’ll be more afraid of you than you are of them.  You know what they thing you are.”

He scoffed at that.  “Well . . . they’re wrong.”

She smiled again, and this time it was easy.

“I know that, and so will they once they’ve gotten to know you.  But for now, maybe you can use it to your advantage.”

The corners of his mouth lifted as he looked at her.  Perhaps he was just humoring her, but the sight made her stretch up on her toes and move one hand to the back of his head.  He leaned down until their lips met.

It was the first time they had kissed like this, a parting gesture as they left each other for the day.  Just like a regular couple.

“Have a good day,” Rose said, fighting the lump forming in her throat.  “I can’t wait to hear about it.”

* * *

When she returned that evening, she called out to Armitage out of habit, and it took at moment to quell the panic when she got no response.

“He’s at work,” she said aloud as she sat heavily on the couch.  She wondered if he had washed out her tea pot, as he had for the past months, but couldn’t summon the energy to go and check.  It would be like this every day soon, once he had found a new place to live.

She sighed as she looked around the room.  It was still true that he hadn’t change the physical appearance of the apartment much.  He had brought so little with him when he moved in, none of his own things.  But she supposed he had never had much in the way of personal effects even when he was a general.  The few items of clothing he had, she had given him, along with his tea pot.  For a moment, she tried to imagine what his apartment would look like, how sparse it would be, but it only made her feel sadder. He would be so lonely, and so would she.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, contemplating making tea, but it was long enough to make her jump up when the door creaked opened.  Armitage entered, looking much more relaxed than when he had left that morning.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Rose.  I wanted to get here before you did so . . . oh!”

He gasped with surprise when she pulled him into a tight hug.

“Sorry,” she murmured as she released him.  “I just . . . I missed you.  How did it go?” She sat back down on he sofa and motioned for him to do the same.

Armitage smiled, sitting close enough that their knees touched.  “Much better than I thought.  The students . . . er . . . my team were so much better prepared than I thought.  And older, too.”

Rose grinned.  “What did you expect? Did you think the general would send you a group of younglings?”

“No, I . . . but I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“Were they . . .?” She wasn’t sure how to finish the question.  “Were they nice to you?” seemed inappropriate, but wasn’t that what she really wanted to know?

“The seemed excited about the project,” he answered, to Rose’s relief.  “They asked a lot of questions, which I am not used to.  But they were good questions. We made a lot of progress.”

As he described the steps they had completed, Rose felt her eyes growing wider and wider.  “You did all that in one day? No wonder you were late!”

“I just want to make the most of their momentum.  To be honest, Rose, I was astonished.  They were so . . . motivated.”

Rose frowned as he went on.  She supposed his surprise made sense.  She was sure his last team had been motivated too, but it had been by pressure and fear. No one was going to be spaced or reconditioned if they failed to deliver a structure meant to help feed people, not slaughter them. Armitage had found it hard to believe people would be willing to work under such conditions.  He still had so much to learn.

“I hope you gave them a long lunch break,” she said when he paused for breath.

He had opened his mouth to speak again, but then he stopped, his brows knit with confusion.

“A what?”

Rose tried to hide her shock, but the concern on his face let her know she had failed.

“You didn’t . . . you kept them at work all day?”

“Of course.  Why? Was there a certain time we were supposed to stop? Is this a Republic policy? No one told me.”

Rose could think of a pretty good reason why that had been the case, but mentioning it wouldn’t help.  Perhaps there wasn’t much that went without saying when it came to reformed First Order officers.

“Nevermind.  Hey, let’s have dinner, and then you can tell me more.”

Armitage looked at her skeptically, but he didn’t object.  She supposed he must be starving if he’d worked all day with no food, especially after such a long vacation.  She wondered what kind of shape his team members were in.

* * *

All through dinner and even while they were washing up afterwards, Armitage kept talking; it was remarkable to Rose how many details he had been able to absorb about his team already.  It always took her at least three days to really learn a new coworker’s name.  And she couldn’t help but remember that it had taken some effort for him to remember her name.  But, if she were being generous, she supposed he had been through a lot recently at the time.  He had gone to the prison ward certain that he would be executed, and then let out to start a new life he could barely contemplate.  But look at him now.

She had never seen him so excited, and while it made her happy at first, a weight had seemed to settle in her chest, growing heavier and heavier.

“Rose?” he said in the middle of a story about a woman on his team, Ari, and her knowledge of different kinds of soils. “Are you alright? You’re quiet.”

Rose shook her head.  “I’m fine.  You’re the one who had the exciting day.  I don’t mind listening.”

It was only half true, and the lines on Armitage’s forehead confirmed that he knew it, but he went back to his story and didn’t pause again.

It wasn’t until he was in the ‘fresher brushing his teeth that she realized what the problem was.  He had talked plenty about the inevitability of his finding an apartment, but he hadn’t don’t anything about it yet.  Meeting his team was the first irrefutable proof that his life was going to change, and he was happy about it.  It had never really seemed like he wanted to move, but once he got used to working with these people every day, he might warm to the possibility of other changes.  He might be more persuaded by the advantages of being closer to his job rather than just the conviction that she wanted him gone.

The trouble was, it had been a long time since that had been true.  She wanted him there; she thought it was obvious.  But she had never said it.  The thought was enough to make her heart race and her mouth go dry.  She would have to now, before she lost her nerve.  The worst thing he could do was say no, right?

She told herself it couldn’t be that bad; they had already talked about how they would make time to see each other once he had moved.  But she knew, even as the told herself that it wouldn’t be that different, that it would.  And the thought was almost unbearable.

“I’m glad you didn’t object to going to bed early tonight,” Armitage said as he came in.  “I think if I can reach the site early enough tomorrow I can start . . . Rose? What is it?”

He sounded almost alarmed, which didn’t help matters.  Rose sat up in bed, pressing her back against the headboard and willing her voice not to shake.

  


 

 “Stay,” she heard herself mutter.

Armitage froze, and she knew he had heard her and understood.  “What?”

“Stay here,” she forced out. She felt her hands trembling with nerves.  “Don’t move out. Stay with me.”

He was still staring at her, his green eyes wide with disbelief.

“Only if you want to,” she added hastily.  “I want you to stay, but of course you need to do whatever you . . . “

“Yes.”

His voice was soft, but the answer was unmistakable. Rose found herself staring back at him.

“You don’t need to decide tonight, Armitage.  Take all the time you need.”

“I don’t need time.  Of course I want to stay here.  I just never . . .”

He dropped his eyes, and Rose found herself reaching for his hand, smiling when he let her take it.  He sat down on the bed next to her and stretched out his legs

“You never what?”

Armitage glanced up at her, tentative.  “I never thought that was an option.  I never thought you’d . . .”

Before he could finish, she was up on her knees, cupping his face in her hands as she kissed him.  They were still shaking, but she didn’t care. Armitage hesitated for only a moment before he kissed her back, his arms coming around her waist to pull her closer to him.  Rose grew bolder, straddling him as she reached down to pull at his pajamas.  Her fingers were shaking too badly to undo the buttons, but when Armitage tried he fared little better.  Finally, he pulled the top off of his shoulders, and to Rose’s surprise made no protest when she pulled his undershirt over his head.

Once it was off, she kissed him again, gasping when his hand slipped from her waist up the back of her top.

“Please,” he murmured as she pulled back.  Rose nodded, undoing the first button.  It was only fair, she supposed, given how much she had seen of him. 

As she dropped her pajama top on the bed next to her, she watched his reaction.  His lips parted as he raked his eyes over her, but his touch was gentle.  Cautious.  He didn’t reach for her breasts right away, instead stroking up her sides light enough to tickle and then over her shoulders and collar bone as he kissed along her check and down the side of her neck.  When he finally cupped one breast in his hand, he just held it as though testing the weight.  He frowned as he drew his thumb over the wide nipple.

“They’re not hard,” he observed.  He raised his other hand, gently circling the areola around her other nipple with his finger.  “You don’t like this?”

Her heart was beating faster and heat pooled low in her belly.  When she shifted on Armitage’s lap, she could feel his cock starting to swell against her.  She chose her words carefully, not wanting to spoil the mood.

“I don’t . . . mind it,” she replied.  “You can touch them. They just . . . mine aren’t as sensitive as yours.”

Armitage blushed, but he was smiling.

“I want to make you feel good, Rose.  Just . . . tell me what to do.”

She watched him for a moment, then her lips curved into a wicked grin.

“Give me your hand.”

* * *

She climbed off of him and stretched out on her side, pulling him forward to lie next to her. Still holding his right hand, she pressed against him for another kiss.  His cock throbbed in his pajama pants as she brushed her thigh against it.  Hux had never felt more of her bare skin against his before, but it still wasn’t enough.  He wanted to touch what her pants concealed.  From what she had done the night before, he thought that was where she wanted his hand.  He hoped so.

His heart raced when she pushed his palm down against belly and lower, covering the slight curve of it.  When their hands neared her groin, she lifted them up enough to avoid her waistband.  Hux made a tiny noise of complaint that turned into a moan when she slid his hand between her legs.

He hadn’t given very much thought to women’s bodies until recently.  Since women had never seemed to be attracted to him, it seemed a pointless exercise.  If he had ever wondered what it would feel like to touch one like this, he had probably concluded that there wasn’t much there. But he had been wrong.  Her mound was softer than he expected. And hot. When he pressed his fingers against her slit she gasped, her hips bucking against him.  He kissed her again, slipping his tongue between her parted lips, but when he pressed harder she pulled his hand away completely.

“Sorry,” he murmured.  “Did I . . .”

“Shhh,” was her only reply at first.  She dragged his hand back up her belly, between her breasts, and over the curve of her throat. 

“We need to get your fingers ready,” she explained.

Before he could ask what she meant, she took hold of his pointer and middle fingers and flicked her tongue over them, making him gasp.  Then she glanced up at him through her dark lashes and took them into her mouth.  Hux felt his cock jerk as she sucked them and his whole body shuddered when she drew back and nibbled the sensitive tips.

Rose chuckled softly.  “You liked that a lot more than the first time.”

Hux stared at her for a moment before he remembered.  Then his cheeks flushed and he grinned.

“Well,” he began, flustered.  “That was a bit different.”

“It was,” Rose agreed.  Hux had opened his mouth to speak again, but when she rolled onto her back started to pull her pants down, he forgot what it was.  His eyes fixed on the dark hair between her legs, but he looked up at her when she spoke.

“You can touch, too . . .you know.” The tremor of arousal in her voice was all the encouragement he needed. 

He cupped her mound, slipping one of the fingers she’d sucked over the edges of her lips before it curved between them.  The heat he had expected, but . . .

“You’re so wet,” he gasped, awestruck.  Rose drew a ragged breath and raised her hips to press her cunt against his hand.  He took the hint, sliding his finger down to slip inside her.  He only went deep enough to get his finger a little wetter and then drew it back up through her folds.  Near the top of her slit, it brushed against a tiny swollen nub.

“Shit,” Rose gasped, her back arching. “There!”

He circled it with his fingertip before brushing over it again and then yet again with a bit more pressure.  Rose shivered and moaned, placing a shaky hand over his.

“More.”

He stroked with two fingers then, down to her perineum and then back up again.  Her breath came in pants and a flush began to spread down her neck.

“May I?” he asked, resting his fingertips against her opening.  He wanted to make her come, but he was curious.  What would she feel like inside?

Rose nodded, and he slowly pushed in.  He had feared two fingers might hurt her--she was so small—but she was also so wet that he could move easily.  His thumb brushed again over the swelling outside almost by accident and Rose gasped, the muscles inside tightening around his fingers.  It was enough to make his neglected cock leak.

He pulled his fingers out a bit, then sank them back in deeper and had started to curve them forward before he remembered.  That’s men, you fool.

“Yeah,” Rose moaned.  “A little deeper.”

Hux frowned, but repeated the motion anyway.  She must know what she was asking.

When he curled his fingers again she jerked and tightened around him again.  “Oh! Oh . . . fuck.  Move!”

He obeyed, sliding his fingers in and out, seeking that spot out again and again.  It was easier than he’d thought.  Soon Rose was thrashing, gripping the covers tight in her hands.  Her flush was spreading closer to her chest now, and for the first time her nipples were hard.

Hux rubbed his thumb over the swelling at the top of her cunt once more and it was enough.  She tightened around his fingers again and again, shaking and swearing with each breath.  When she relaxed again, he gently withdrew his fingers and held them up to his face to examine them.

They were soaked.  He felt a curious desire to taste them, but then Rose opened her eyes to watch him, still panting.  If she were a man, he wouldn’t hesitate; all the men he’d been with had seemed to love the idea that their come tasted good.  But he didn’t know what Rose would think, and it didn’t seem like a good idea to ask.

Tentatively, keeping his eyes on hers, Hux brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean. Rose’s eyes went wide.

“Fuck” she growled, low in her throat.  Hux indulged in a smirk; perhaps women weren’t so different after all.

It was the last think he thought before Rose was on him again, pressing him down on his back as she kissed him again hard.  She made her way down his neck and the center of his chest, and when her groin was just above his she rolled her hips against him.  Hux groaned loud at the pressure on his aching cock and was reaching down to hold her in place when she sat up, grabbing his waistband.

“I don’t think you need these anymore, do you?”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she was pulling his pants off and dropping them on the floor.  He looked down at his cock to see a droplet of precome appear and roll out of view.  It would only take a few strokes to finish him, he knew.  And then it would be over.

“Wait,” he whined, raising a hand to stop her as she reached for him.  “I . . . I want to try something.  Would you lie down again?”

Rose cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

Hux glanced down between her legs again and gave a little nod.  Rose drew a shuddering breath.

“Are you sure?” she asked as she lay down again.

He only nodded as he turned over and got his hands and knees.  He struggled for a moment with different ways to fold up his long body at the foot of the bed beneath her spread legs, but finally gave up, instead kneeling at the side of bed and drawing her legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, Armitage,” she moaned, twitching when he breathed over her slit.  He wasn’t sure how to begin, but she seemed to like it when he stroked up the center with his fingers, so he followed the same path with his tongue.  A ragged gasp let him know it was the right thing to do.  She was somehow even wetter than before, but he enjoyed it more than he thought.  He imagined how easy it would be to slip inside her and his cock jumped again, leaking again.

Dark hairs tickled his lips as he moved in closer, but he ignored them, focusing on the tiny cries and moans he drew when he laved over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top.  On the third pass, she buried her hands in his hair.

“Suck,” she growled, hoarse.

He took the swelling gently between his lips and did as she asked.  Rose shuddered beneath him, her fingers tightening in his hair almost painfully. As he alternated between licking and sucking, he felt his chin getting as wet as his fingers had been.  Would she let him kiss her when it was over? She had after he had licked his fingers, but this was more.  He hoped she would.

Her fingers tightened in his hair once more and she arched her back, gasping as she came again.  Hux stayed where he was, lapping gently at her cunt until she pushed his head away.

“That’s enough,” she murmured sleepily.

Hux got up and lay down on the bed again, stretching out next to her.

She turned, smiling at him.  “You’re a mess.”

He immediately reached up to wipe at his chin and she laughed.

“Not that,” she said.  “Well, that too, I suppose, but I meant that.”

His eyes followed her gaze down his body to settle on his erection, almost purple with frustrated arousal.

“That must hurt,” she observed, sitting up to get a better look.  “You’re almost as wet as I am.”

Hux wiped at his chin again, self-conscious.  “So, you enjoyed that then?”

Rose stared at him for a moment, as though she wasn’t sure if he was making a joke. Then she grinned.

“Well, you did alright for the fist time, I suppose.  Of course, it takes practice to get really good at it.”

Hux tried to smile back, but something was bothering him.

“You . . . said I could stay.”

“I did.  I still do,” she added hastily.

Hux started to speak, the paused, frowning as he struggled with his words.  Only one seemed to fit.

“Why?”

She looked at him thoughtfully, then glanced away, brushing her damp bangs back from her face.

“I . . . um.  I just found myself thinking, while you were talking about your team . . .”

She paused again, and Hux found himself almost trembling with anxiety.

“And?”

Rose reached for his hand.  “I like you, Armitage.  I really like you, and I have for a while now.  I should have told you that before now.  But then, tonight . . . I had to think about what it would be like to be on my own again.  For you to be on your own.  And not telling you how I felt just seemed . . . so stupid.”

Hux smiled, trying to ignore the tears welling up in his eyes.  How ridiculous to cry at a moment like this.

“I . . . thank you.  I like you, too.” 

He felt he should say more, but after a moment more of struggling, Rose leaned down to kiss him again.  If she could still taste herself on him, it was hardly a deterrent, and soon they were in each other’s arms again.


	17. Thank You

It had finally gotten cold enough for even Hux to feel it.  He had pulled his scarf up around his ears and was even reduced to putting his coat collar out of shape to block out the icy wind that had crept in around the edges.  His walk home in the snow felt longer than it ever had; indeed, it was all he could do to get home with his groceries.

Once back in the kitchen, he had turned on the stove under the kettle before he even sat the groceries down and was warming has hands over the burner as soon as they were free.  He thought of how Rose would laugh if she could see him.

She wouldn’t be home until later that night.  That morning after he had arrived at work, one of her fellow mechanics had stopped by on her way to a call to tell him that Rose had dinner plans with her friend, Vi, who had just returned from a long mission.  She had also said, the corners of her eyes crinkling, that Rose wanted him to pick up a chicken on the way home and roast it.  His scowl had entirely failed to intimidate her, but he supposed he was out of practice.  He had told her that he would do it and that, thankfully, had sent her on her way.

The rest of his team had paid little attention to this exchange.  After a month, they were well acquainted with Rose’s peculiarities.  On the second day of the project, Rose had astounded all of them by bringing twelve massive rolls of bread loaded with more varieties of meats, cheeses, and vegetables than Hux could name.

“I know you’re busy,” she’d said.  “I don’t want to disturb you, but I thought you might all be hungry from working so hard.”

To say that they were happy to see her would have been an immense understatement.  When Hux had given them a break, he half-wondered if not doing so would have prompted a revolt. Rose had said nothing about it, and he never asked, but ever since he had suspected that she had brought lunch that day to keep him from looking like a fool.  Or a tyrant.

She still joined him for lunch sometimes, even now that she was certain he knew what time to release his team.  They were always happy to see her, even when she arrived empty-handed.

Once he had put the rest of the groceries away, Hux sipped his tea and frowned at the chicken where it lay in the sink.  He and Rose had roasted one every week since that first time.  She would eat the winds and legs—she loved the meat straight off the bone, which still seemed bizarre to him--and then make the rest into a soup for the both of them.  Then the next day, he would make the remains into a stock.  It was the first bit of cooking he had done on his own besides making tea, and he and Rose had different opinions about whether that counted.  Still, he couldn’t deny that he took some pride in being able to do it all himself . . . apart from the onions, anyway.

The chicken itself, though.  That was undertaking.  As he washed it, he thought of all the times Rose had told him how much easier it was with two people.  It hadn’t seemed so to him the first time, but he had seen her logic as time when on.  He now saw that the act was less strange and, fortunately, less titillating than he had originally thought.

Working alone, though, it was just a mess.  He washed his hands three times before he reached for the oil.  It wasn’t until the chicken was in the oven that he realized he had left out two of the four spices that needed to go on it.  Hux sighed and decided to let it go.  Rose always said she just used what she felt like using anyway.  She had the same nonchalant approach for most procedures, and he was starting to see the logic of that as well.

He poured the rest of his tea into his mug and sat down with the stack of blueprints his team had been working on. He put them down only the take the chicken out of the oven, and after that was so engrossed he barely registered the door opening.  He heard Rose, though.

“Fuck, it’s snowing again!” she cried.

Hux sat his tea and the blueprints aside and turned to look at her over the back of the sofa.  There was a light dusting of snow on the shoulders of her coat and even a few stray flakes in her hair.

“Here, let me help you with that.” He got up and walked around behind her.  She had unzipped the front of her coat and let him pull it off of her shoulders.  He grimaced down at it for a moment.  It had been his idea to buy her a winter coat.  She had gotten him one, and he had been so eager to return the favor after he received his first paycheck.

He’d had a different coat in mind, though.  The one Rose had chosen was a long, shapeless, puffy article in a shade of purple so bright it hurt his eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, teasingly.  “And I don’t care. It’s warm, that’s all that matters.”

“If you say so,” Hux replied, taking care to hang her coat close to the heating vent where it would dry faster.

“I was just going to make another pot of tea.  Shall I heat some milk for one of your sludgy sugar drinks?”

She beamed at him in spite of the slander.  “Would you? After that walk I could certainly use one.”

Hux nodded and returned to the kitchen, filling the kettle and getting out a smaller pot, which he filled half full with milk before turning on the heat under it.

Rose came in behind him and got a mug out of the cabinet.

“So, how is Vi?” he asked.  “Does she know how long her leave will last this time?” He hoped his question sounded more curious than anxious.  As a Republic spy, Vi would have access to information that presented his past in an unflattering light.  An accurate one, but one that made him want to avoid meeting her if at all possible.

“Oh, she never knows about that,” Rose said as she got the rest of her supplies out of the cabinet.  “She says this one was her last mission.  Now that the war is over, she can settle down, she says.”

“You doubt her?”

Rose looked at him over her shoulder, an eyebrow cocked.  “Oh, I imagine she’ll find something to do. She likes the excitement too much to ever give it up.”

Hux turned his back to her to put more tea in his pot, but he found he couldn’t quite drop the subject.

“Did . . . did you tell her about me?” he asked, so quietly he wasn’t sure she could hear him.

He heard her footsteps on the floor as she approached and could smell the sugar and chocolate powder in her cup as she stood beside him, but he didn’t raise his eyes.

“I told her that I met someone special, and that I had asked him to live with me. And I told her your first name.”

He looked up, meeting her eyes.  “And that was enough for her?”

“Well, I told her you were working on the new greenhouse.  I didn’t say you were the lead engineer.”

“Because that would give away the surprise?” he asked with a rueful smile.

She smiled back.  “Yeah, I did think she might figure it out. But I think I put her off the trail.”

“How did you manage that?”

Her smile widened.  “I told her how much I like you.  She knows I couldn’t like someone as evil as she thinks General Hux was.”

He felt his cheeks warm and his throat grow tight.  He had hoped he would eventually be able to master his emotions when she said things like this, but it hadn’t happened yet.

Fortunately, Rose was distracted.

“The chicken looks great!” she exclaimed, crossing over to it for a closer look.

Hux turned to watch with his mug in his hand.  He thought it looked the way it usually did when Rose made it, which was the most he could have hoped for.

“I forgot the oregano,” he pointed out.  “And either the sage or the rosemary.  I’m not certain which.”

“You used salt, didn’t you?” Her smile was replaced by a look of concern.

Hux scoffed with mock disdain.  “I should hope so.  I haven’t helped you so many times to learn nothing.”

She grinned at him before turning to the pot of milk, which was steaming now.  He approached as she whisked the hot liquid into her mug.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some?” she asked with a smirk.

He shook his head, taking another sip of his tea to steel himself against the thought.  He had learned that Rose had what she called a “sweet tooth,” and he did not.  What she was drinking—hot cocoa, she called it—was even more repulsively saccharine than the drink at the café had been.

At the same time, though, he had leaned that he enjoyed things with a salty, briny bite to them: dry cheeses, olives, pickles.  She had kept him well supplied with all of these from the time she learned he like them; the previous week, she had brought him a jar of salted capers that he now struggled not to add to everything he ate.  Rose snickered at his combinations sometimes, but never tried to stop him.

“It’s like you’ve never eaten food before,” she had said.  “It’s fun to watch you figure it out.” He supposed she wasn’t too far from the truth with the first point.  Perhaps as a child he had eaten freshly prepared food, but he certainly couldn’t remember it.

Rose walked into the living room and he followed her.  When she paused to look back at him expectantly, he walked around her to sit down first.  He put his back against the sofa arm and stretched his legs out.  She sat her mug down and reached for the pink throw, pulling it over both of them as she settled down on his lap.  Leaning against his chest, she took another sip of her cocoa and sighed with contentment.

“Are you warm enough now?” he asked, chuckling when she nodded.  They had ended up sitting like this every day when they got home since the snow had started.  Rose had never lived in such a cold climate before and for Hux, well.  It gave him another reason to love the cold.

“It’s supposed to stop tomorrow,” he said, wistful.  “Maybe the weather will start to change.”

“I hope so.  We’re both going out tomorrow night.”

Hux frowned, saying nothing.

“Remember? Poe and Finn asked us for dinner.”

He remembered.  He had rather hoped someone would forget, unlikely as that was when Rose had dinner with them every week.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

He didn’t have to see Rose’s face to know that she was smiling.  She knew he was anxious; it wasn’t the first time he had asked.  But she persisted in thinking the other two men wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t want him there.

“Of course it is.  Everything will be fine, Armitage.”

She gulped down the last of her cocoa and sat her mug down.  Laying her head on his chest again, she sighed and relaxed.

For a moment, they just lay there, enjoying the warmth and quiet until Rose spoke again.

“Don’t be intimidated by them,” she murmured.  “They just need to get to know you, you know? The way you are now. And besides . . .”

She trailed off, sleepily.  The cocoa always had that effect on her, he’d noticed, even if it didn’t last for long.

“Yes?”

“Besides,” she continued.  “I’ll be there to protect you.”

Hux smiled and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to those of you who have stuck with this story to the end! There is just one more chapter left, and it will be an epilogue set around week or two after this chapter.


End file.
